#the breakdown in the snow...then how he so badly wanted just to see their smile again...man i can't do this 😢

[mitsureigen]

To Soften a Warrior’s Heart (Vinland Saga; Thorfinn; Part 10, Finale of S1)

In which you have joined Askeladd’s band…and grow closer to the Son of Thors. Though it is more difficult than anyone can could ever imagine…

[Headcanons of how it would be like to meet and crawl your way into Thorfinn’s heart (based on season 1; both platonic and romantic)]

Part 1 is here - meeting Thorfinn at the age of 14 and how he is at that age

Part 2 is here - meeting Thorfinn at the age of 16/17 + headcanons of growing closer (slightly following s1 story)

Part 3 is here - blooming friendship with Thorfinn (slightly following s1 story)

Part 4 is here - Thorfinn unwittingly opening his heart as he realizes he does not want you to die

Part 5.1 is here - sweet things Thorfinn would do for you (headcanons)

Part 5.2 is here - other sweet things Thorfinn would do for you (headcanons)

Part 6 is here - meeting Canute and becoming his guard - Thorfinn accepts your relationship and bond

Part 7 is here - Canute grieving over Ragnar and Thorkell catching up; Thorfinn leaves you alone for revenge

Part 8 is here - Thorfinn wins against Thorkell; Questioning your bond with Thorfinn

Part 9 is here - Meeting Leif and Thorfinn dueling Askeladd; Losing while Askeladd told him the truth of his constant losses

Tag list:

@luopenis , @jinsecho , @mitsureigen , @theknightssecrets

Mentions of murder, death, war, slave trade, harrasment against women and whatever awful things happened in the viking era. Only mentioned and used as examples. Mostly gender-neutral examples but female-leaning ones are there, too.]

[This part will specifically mention: Lost Thorfinn, you snapping, confrontation, crying and screaming, Thorfinn kinda losing it, depressive vibes, Thorfinn thinking about death, mentions of blood and snot, zombie Thorfinn, longing, abandonment]

It's Just Like A Burning Torch In A Storm, Like A Little Flower Blooming In A Home...

The weather has worsened as Askeladd predicted.

Even as it was past noon, the sky darkened in a warning as if it were the middle of the deadly night. Snowflakes that started out so lovely of how light they were, were now raining down like arrows and blurring the sight. You could barely see any light come from York and simply trotted after the footsteps your 'leaders' and 'liege' left behind.

You scoffed at the fear of the trails being hidden away by the upcoming storm at this pace, however. Dragging Thorfinn by his wrist would take forever until you'd find shelter.

You had told him to rest his broken arm in the sling but he let it swing with every little limp he managed after you. His good arm was just as lax and he barely let out any signs of pain of how utterly and crushingly tight you gripped his wrist as you dragged him after you. Hunched like a bell ringer, his pants and groans were as quiet as a mouse.

You bit your tongue. He barely paid any attention and just let you haul you around like a dog-

A thump. Thankfully you did not let your grip falter on him as he fell to his knees. Swallowing down a sigh, you turned around and tugged on his wrist. "C'mon. The snow is getting heavier."

Thorfinn hung his head.

"C'mon." You called out louder, tugging at him again. With a dreadfully slow pace, Thorfinn managed to lift one leg after another. After helping him up, you turned around to lead the way.

The same song all over again. The scenery did not seem to change, Askeladd and friends having vanished right under your nose. It felt like you were stranded on a place familiar yet far away. Freezing snowscapes weren't an ucommon sight and they surely were not with only Thorfinn as your company but this caving, this sharp chilliness that felt paralyzing as your heart seemed to give in the longer you dwelled here - as if this place was cursed - it was a first. It was all a first, daunting and frightening. Although, you doubted you could really pinpoint your feelings right now.

You let yourself sigh in frustration as Thorfinn fell once again. The crunching of the snow has become irritating and you snapped towards him. "Thorfinn. I know you can stand. You were running towards Askeladd just moments ago," You hoped it was 'just' moments ago, "Stand up already, don't have me haul you."

All you received was another groan. Another attempt but he kept on slipping. With a growl of your own you kneeled down to hold him under his arms. Heaving him with great effort, you almost slipped yourself as the blonde stayed limb, letting you lift him up with all your might. You felt like a mother with an grown man.

You scolded him again as he simply let himself lean on you once you were up on your feet - before pushing him away and giving him a good shake.

Still, he almsot tumbled down again.

"Thorfinn!" Yelling did not seem to effect him as well as his eyes, black and blue, narrow and swollen from the one-sided brawl, barely took in your figure. His brown eyes looked like they saw right through you, not even on eye level as he still did not walk straight, and it pissed you off.

Even breathing for air was painful, the sharp coldness of this barren, damned place wanting to cut into your lungs with each inhale as if taunting you, knowing that you rely on it now. Now, stuck in this forgotten land as the snow lies down on your shoulders. It's getting heavier and heavier, ringing in your ears as even they felt like falling off your head at any moment. They might as well. The biting wind, though gentle as it was, stealing any feeling you had in your bones.

Sniffing and swallowing your snot, you yanked at his arm again, swiftly turning around and trying to march after the fading footsteps as Thorfinn limped after.

The mere sound of crunching snapped the last strand of patience you so miraciously found within you and before the young man could completely slip again, he fell on his side instead as your fist collided with his face.

"You're a complete idiot!"

Thorfinn barely let out a sound. It made the fire within you rise.

"Askeladd was damn right! You're a moron! A godsforsaken fool! Idiot! Idiot, idiot, idiot!"

You stomped your foot, akin to a child, and Thorfinn wondered why you did not let him feel your ire instead, as he gazed up at you through lidded, swollen eyes. Though he did shakily gasp as you bent down and grabbed ahold of his shirt, holding him up to your level.

"The hell do you think you're doing here?! Huh?! What the hell are you doing here?! Answer me!" You threw him to the ground just as quickly. "You have people here that want you back to a home and you are crawling back to damn Askeladd out of all people! Vile, disgusting, bastard Askeladd!"

Your pants grew louder and louder, hands on your head, as they quickly snapped from brainless inhales to a growling, longing shriek - an animal squealing in pain.

"Do you have any idea - no, 'course you don't! You're a stupid mutt! You never think, never had any brains up there, did you?!" Piles of snow were thrown left and right, partly falling on Thorfinn, on his beaten body and face. He flinched at the contact. You kept on screeching. "You always end up like this. On the ground. Like a dog!" Again, you kicked snow his way, "When you could be somewhere else, somewhere far away that isn't here!"

You snapped your arm back to a direction you believed York was, distressed glare still on your friend, "What the hell was this Leif person talking about?! Iceland?! Helga and Ylva?! They're your family, aren't they?! You have family, Thorfinn, family that is alive and well and in Iceland and they want you back! They love you, Thorfinn!" Retreating your arm, you brought your hands back to your head, pulling on your hair, pulling on the last strand of sanity this man left you. Though you desperately were scowling, you wanted to scowl, your eyes were only wide. Wide and big, distress shining in them as tears welled up in the corners. A choked sob escaped you.

"Anyone would jump up in joy hearing that their family is still alive but you didn't give a damn about what that man had to say. He said he'd wait for you. Maybe he's still there."

The screeching softened the more you talked, misty-eyed as you gazed at anything but him. Lamenting to yourself at this predicament he found himself in. Thorfinn's own eyes widened as best as they could as he managed to sit up. A breathy gasp escaped him. He's never seen you like this.

"Do you have," Sobbing, you wiped your nose, "Any idea how lucky you are to have people in this world...that want you?"

The breathy gasp morphed into sharp inhales, greedily gulping in the painful air as Thorfinn kept staring and staring at you, wide-eyed and afraid. He barely could breath.

"You could be there...but you're not. So answer me when I ask you what the hell you are doing here."

Something...something he reckoned to be akin to ringing wormed its way in his ears alongside your sobs. He saw you hiding your eyes as tears fell down your face - but he wasn't sure, the heavy snow and his lidded eyes made it difficult to truly see you. Thorfinn was not certain if he stooped this low that he had begun seeing things.

Tilting his head down to the snow - his neck couldn't find any strength anymore - he startled at the face his father's dagger reflected. Swollen and broken...dark and bruised, blood and snot oozing out of his bent nose with one of his eye hardly visible and of course, barely able to see with it anyway. Maybe it wasn't the trick of the weather but just his swollen face.

He had seen this face time and time again.

It whined and fussed whenever he looked at it, leaving him no choice but to see its pain and its borderline stupidity. The blood coated on the blade as it cut the guards.

The broken arm that almost earned worse by Thorkell's duel.

The stomach that churned whenever he trotted away like a corpse out of sheer hunger. Looking for anything he could gnaw between his teeth.

The hand that held the torch to the woman's demise. The hair she groomed was soaked in blood later, he recalled.

All that gruesome work...all the murders and the guts on the floor, the stolen goods and impaled heads...all those errands.

It was all this ugly face that he sees.

He sucked in air only to let them out in a wail. He wailed and wailed, louder and louder, his voice cracking as his tongue was tied and not able to form any words. He stared at you as you kept on sobbing.

Thorfinn's scream pierced through the heavy snow and the deafening silence. The cold, the snow, the dark, thunderous sky was nothing compared to this might, to this pathetic pain. It was louder than anything else you'd ever heard, both from the people you've killed and their pleas for mercy, and from the amount of grief he so sparingly shared with you, here and there.

Wiping your tears, you grimaced. Even through this wail that teared your heart apart, you could not help but think back on Askeladd. Oh, how wretched he'd feel this sight would be.

It hurt even more that you'd even agree.

It's Just Like A Lighthouse In Your Hands, Like A Little Flag Flapping In The Sands...

Misty-eyed, you looked down on the mutt wreathing in the snow. In his beaten state he could no longer look down at his dagger, could not form any words of remorse, imploration or grief. It was animalistic braying, as Askeladd described, howling at a moon that won't ever rise. You observed for some more, drying your face completely before falling onto your knees before Thorfinn.

His brown eyes struggled to follow your movements but that did not bother you. Watching him twitch and turn, you scooted closer and opened your arms. Arms that felt to heavy to share any burden.

Your limbs were slow, so woefully slow and heavy as they wrapped around his hunched body. Even as you gently and gingerly pressed him against you, Thorfinn continued to cry out, seeming to not have even noticed your gesture. He seemed to only gulp back for air when the side of his head was pressed against your chest.

This cringing feeling only grew worse at the rapid speed of his heart pounding against you. It was akin a bird's panicked flappings as it tried to misguidedly escape the cage it's been put in. However, you still tried to focus on the lightening aspects. How his gasps ceased and he himself tried to take deep breaths. Your hand found the crown of his head, stroking his grimy hair.

Thorfinn jumped. These calm breaths of yours tickled his head, leaving him shuddering. Gazing into the empty, barren snowscape he pondered if - maybe if, as long as he's not mistaken - you had ever done something so comforting to him before. He thought of it to be comforting at least. The familiarity of it all left him stumped as well as equally frightened. He did not know what to make of it.

Were you always like this? You have never...embraced him like this before. Was it because of him? Did he put a distance between you? Were you hesitant, perhaps reluctant to offer him soothing solace such as this? Thorfinn did not know and he did not remember.

Letting out a confused groan, he ever so tediously turned his head and gazed up to you. Chin resting on your chest as he looked up at you like an intriguied animal.

You cringed slightly at the face before you. No longer stroking his hair, you grabbed a fistful of snow and gently rubbed it against his dark blue cheek. Thorfinn did not resist but only let out a soft croak of pain. Still, his eyes never left you. "I'm sorry. I made the bruise worse." You spoke under your breath. The snow dissolved and fell apart, leaving only your reddened palm to cup and carress his face. You hoped it would soothe the injury.

Wordlessly, you continued to graze the bruises on his face with your cold hand in an attempt to lighten the pain. The blonde, as beaten and silent as he was, fluttered his eyes close whenever your fingers touched the swollen lumps nearby. He'd croak and sigh at the lightest of touches, leaning on you on his knees and face tilted up to look at you. Wiping the blood under his nose caused him to sneeze and you ripped a handful of your cloak off, offering for him to sneeze into it.

"One more time. The blood might dry and clump up your nose." He did so as told, clumps of snot and blood pulled out of his nostrills. He sniffed, inhaling the air. You threw the blood-soaked cloth away. Wiping your hand, your brought it back up to press his head against you, hesitant, but deciding to squeeze him ever so gently. Your face grimaced but you did not want to let him know.

It was almost on command. How he let his head turn around again, his ear leaning against your chest to listen to your heartbeat. His own pounded against his chest, calmly yet alone. Lonely and longingly. Aside from it, he was empty. So, so empty he would have loved nothing more than to just lean against you and sleep. Sleep forever.

"...C'mon, Thorfinn. Let's get ourselves somewhere warm." Obeying your command once again, he looked back up at you with big eyes, before lifitng himself up. You tucked a few loose strands of unruly hair behind his ears before slinging the good arm around your shoulder, with your face close to one another, you marched back to York.

A Floating Moon...You Still Croon?

He still leaned against you, that fool.

It nearly made you smile how he almost snuggled. Yet it was just as pathetic. Pathetic and ironic like the sun that decided to bless you the moment you found York again. The snow below you all but melted away by its rays and left nothing but filthy, grimy roads. You prefered it over the slippery ice.

The town was rather crowded. Carts filled with many goods pulled by healthy, decorated horses and men with respectable blades passed by. The meeting is soon to begin, you believed.

Still, it only made you more hesitant to ask for any help. Anyone you turn to could be some high and mighty ruler of a region or worse, their vessels and guards. The many swinging scabbards at their hips did not ease your anxiety.

The side of the road it was. Better behind some stables in the shadows and out of the sight of the many servants. Thorfinn looked worse for wear and a youngling like you would definitely not be welcomed with open arms. Oh, how awfully right you were.

With another person's weight on your side, you accidentaly bumped into another. Praying they'd simply scoff or ignore you, you immediately bowed your head and apologized once they argued with you.

"Hey, hey, hey! What do you think you're doing? Bumping into me, eh? Causing an accident only to rob me from my goods, eh? I know that trick." One approached while you stepped back with Thorfinn in tow, head hanging low. You shake your head, trying to explain that it was indeed a mere accident-

"Don't pull that on me. Look at you, beaten and cold. You two must be poor beggars. C'mere, we know what to do with lot like you." As soon as you were cornered and one pulled his arm back for a punch, Thorfinn snapped his arm forward and shoved the man out of the way. He shrieked, alerting the others. "Hey, now-!" The second one grabbed your shoulder, however, he was swiftly kicked off, legs sweeped under his and falling into the manure below. Thorfinn let out something of an scoff despite his unreadable gaze.

Just as your friend was ready to bash the third man out of the trio, you made a run for it. There was no time to scold Thorfinn - you couldn't afford to earn the anger of some ruler's servant!

A mere barn was found and you snuck Thorfinn to the back behind a few bundles of hay. That certainly was close...but you didn't have the strength to berate him any more.

Instead, you tended to him some more, the best that you could as beggars. The man wasn't nearly wrong. Even now Thorfinn only let out a few hums at each action and touch, nodding meekly at each of your words. It was pitiful and equally heartbreaking.

Only to you though, it seemed.

You gently placed your hand to his forehead and sighed in relieve when not detecting a fever. It didn't appear that he had any symptoms either.

The blonde just leaned into your touch, tired.

You tucked a few unruly locks away. "I have to fetch something...I'll be right back." You snapped up only to be tugged down abruptly. Widened eyes looked down to find Thorfinn grabbing your wrist, stopping you and pulling you down. His swollen lips parted for air and eyes were still unreadable. Lying a hand on his, you tried to offer a smile, "I'll be right back, it won't take long. Just stay here and don't move from your spot."

The grip on your wrist was tight enough that you had to shake it off and leave before he could jump after you.

You missed the way his hand reached for your vanishing figure.

The port was even busier, making your heart race.

It was a mystery to you how you managed to find the short, unassuming man within the crowd of bellowing merchants and sailing boats but there he was, staring at you with wide, big eyes. He blinked a few times; Not quite certain if he should even be speaking to you - with that glare you were offering him.

"I don't know any details," You began, "But I have a request. I'll do what it takes for you to accept it." The man let out a nervous, brief chortle before taking a step forward. His hand scratched the back of his neck. The best he could was bear a crooked grin. "Now, hold on, little one. You, ah," He hesitated, blinked and took a breath, "I saw you with Thorfinn the other day. You are a friend of his, no?"

The man did not miss the way you avoided his gaze.

"And you are a relative of his, right? Uncle...Leif, it was?"

The merchant laughed and his nervous tone quickly shifted to a carefree one. It startled you yet that did not stop him from explaining his situation.

That was all nice and dandy...but you did not have time to listen to old tales.

"Listen, I know where he is. I'll take you to him but for that...you have to take him back to Iceland."

Leif could not deny that your request intriguided him. After all, just like Thorfinn you seemed to be a viking despite being his friend. He never had a viking ask him for a favour.

"I'll do whatever it takes to get him there. I'll personally drag him to your boat if I must, beat him black and blue and throw him into it." Again, Leif waved his hands and hoped his awkward laughter would ease the tension...and make you realize how dramatic your solutions were. It was not neccessary, he'd say, all that was needed was a good talk and listening to each other. To follow one's heart...and he's sure Thorfinn would choose the right answer.

That was enough for you to consider it a deal. Hurrying the older man, you were suddenly stopped as he tapped your shoulder. "I wanted to thank you, young one."

Raising a brow, it only made Leif grin.

"Thank you for being a friend to Thorfinn. He used to be such a sweet and hopeful kid...but now, he'd been through hell. I don't know all of the details but I am certain his life would have been more miserable if it weren't for you. Thank you for always staying by his side."

He continued to speak. You listened attentively, your eyes widened and fearing to tear up yet again at these kind words of this kind man.

Thorfinn could count himself lucky to have people who love him.

Listen To Me, Cleave Your Way Again, Again...

The floor was cold but thank the gods not as cold as the snow outside.

Lonely droplets of water fell down one after another and another and another; Like a melody to the puddle below. Thorfinn would have liked to thank to be alone right now. Alone and with not another soul as his company, as the trio of men chased after him and handed him over to the town's guards. With no resistance, he let himself be thrown into the dungeon.

But he could not find any gratitude in his empty heart to any gods right now.

You weren't back. You said you would be but when he looked up to the shadows hovering over him, he was met with three disgusting grins and not your smile. Bitter, bewitching, bland - it did not matter, he just needed to see your smile again.

You...held him. As if he deserved it.

You deserve to be looked for right now but he could not find any strength nor vigor to get up and escape, as easily as he was capable of it. All his head was filled of where questions on your whereabouts as his heart yearned for your presence.

A guard called out to him, speaking of an visitor. His first thought was you and how you returned to him. As best as he could, he crooked his neck and uttered your name.

Yet you weren't back still. There, sitting on the ground with the brightest smile he could muster was the man who used to tell him stories as a child. He prepared himself before he spoke. "Thorfinn. I've been told of an rowdy beggar being locked up. My gut feeling told me that might have been you, my boy."

Thorfinn sighed in disappointment and laid back down.

Leif licked his lips, taking a deep breath. "...You told me how you suffered for the past eleven years since we lost you, Thorfinn. You spoke of how I wouldn't understand, and I might not, and how...you couldn't find any peace within you as long as that man was still alive."

"...That...has nothing to do with you."

Nevertheless, the man persisted, believing it to be of concern to him. The fighting, the wars, the pain - and of how he swore it to himself to bring an end to it all by bringing him home.

A home filled with warmth and people. Of stories, some true and some silly, of food and water. Of no fear for your life and your future. A place where there was love.

"I swore an oath, you know? To myself and to Thors...that I would bring you back to Iceland. Bringing you back home where you belong, Thorfinn. That is the honor I want to uphold and the least I owe to Thors."

At the utter of his father's name, Thorfinn found the fortitude to sit up. Leif's grin was even more radiant than he remembered as a child. "So, Thorfinn...let us go back home. To Iceland!"

"Home...?"

Home...how tempting that word was. How it rolled off his tongue like stenching poison.

Home...after all this time? Why? Why would he, why should he?

Could he even?

"My boy, you said it yourself!" Leif scooted closer, his grin rivaling the sun, his eyes shining like a jewel. "So we can go to Vinland!"

Thorfinn could barely catch his breath, his empty chest that barely could hold his caving heart now rising. Rising, as he remembered the tale of old times.

A land far in the west, beyond the ocean...a land so warm and fruitful and so far away that no slave drives nor wars could reach it...

"Thors wished to go there, too...and I am sure - no, certain! Certain that if he was still alve, he would have loved nothing more than to travel to Vinland!"

Thorfinn hung his head. Was he...even allowed to hear such things, let alone do them? Take action?

"Home...and Vinland..."

Not being able to hold off his quivering smile, Leif dusted himself off as he got up on his feet. He walked slightly to the end of the bars. "And if you allowed it too, Thorfinn...I invited another companion to join us."

Now standing near the end, Leif opened his palm. Squinting his eyes, Thorfinn made out an hesitant, shaking hand peeking out from behind the wall and gingerly taking Leif's own outstretching one. He gladly wrapped his fingers around it, while the other shyly wrapped theirs around him, after a good while.

Following him, behind the wall your figure appeared - and the young blonde wasted no time to jump to his knees. You turned to him, looking down with a bittersweet smile. Thank the gods, he could see your smile that he so wished for.

Voice shaking with disbelief he called out your name.

"You gave me an heart attack."

My, did you tell him of how he did give you an heart attack when you returned to the spot with Leif and found him to be gone. Of how you told the man that he must be arrested and locked up, like the idiot that he was, and that he'd best be bribed free. Leif took the initiative and kindly asked you to wait.

Grey eyes glanced between the two of you and Leif let out a sigh of relieve, his hands on his hips. Even in this odd, ridicilous and hopeful situation that you wanted nothing more than to put your faith into, you approached the bars and looked down at your friend with the sweetest smile you could muster.

"After all this...could you take me to Vinland?"

Listen To Me, Sail Away Again, Again...A Misty Moon I'm Missing You...

For the first time since today, you could feel the breeze.

No longer was it biting or howling but simply soothing.

This road, dirty and muddy and the chants of the people going their merry way felt like a dream.

Stepping inside Leif's humble, little boat felt like a dream.

The mention of other possibly kind merchants joining as Thorfinn held your hand - it was wonderful. Once he was out, he embraced you tight, not saying a word. He worsened his broken arm with the never-ending squeeze he gave you and definitely smeared snot and blood on your neck when he buried his head in there, but you did not dare to complain. Your arms wrapped around his body, silently grateful to have him back.

In this mess that you were and the mess that you are, you felt like the luckiest person alive. You, bewtiched by the bliss, did not complain as Thorfinn let go of your hand.

He was as quiet as a mouse, anyway. You let him ponder, you let him pout to himself. But what you could not let happen was him vanishing once again.

As he did on that snowy hill to fight Thorkell.

"Thorfinn!" Yours and Leif's scream aligning with a bird's shriek. The man just got this little boy back and now you were running off as well, searching for him. He thought he finally found Vinland. Finally could honor his own oath and quench this sadness in his heart.

It was all for nothing.

The searching, the bribing, the empty promises on his behalf...your fighting, your murders, tending his wounds and holding him in your heart. All for nothing.

Yells echoed within the meeting hall. You caught a glimpse of brown and yellow make a sharp turn for it. "Thorfinn!" Yet as men tried to flee the hall, you only struggled to get inside, hearing Thorfinn's screams for Askeladd.

He seemed to have gotten in as his figure vanished from your sight and you hardly could hear him. The yelling and screaming ceased - what had happened in there?

"Thorfinn! Thorfinn, come back! Please!"

Not a reply, not a bellow of utter agony either. It was only you, screeching out his name, screeching out to be let go as the many servants and guards dragged you out. Pulling on your cloak, pulling on your hair, your arms, your face.

"Thorfinn!"

You could not see beyond the crowd. It was eerie to not hear anything from him. Now you wished he hadn't been so quiet.

"...What...? You, are dying? You...?"

The men reckoned you to be a beggar, wondering what you are doing here. Breaking into the king's meeting.

"...Don't be so foolish...and stop this nonsense. I give you my life...but...what will you do with your life...after you've taken mine...?"

Your screaming only convinced them of your madness. A mere, hysterical beggar breaking into the king's murder.

"Thorfinn!"

"...Will you take your friend with you...? Or will you do as I did to Björn...you should go, Thorfinn. Go far, far away from here. Somewhere that isn't here..."

You shall be taken away. Hysterical but maybe useful.

"Damn it, come back! Go back to Iceland, Thorfinn! GO BACK TO ICELAND!"

Iceland is not a fruitful or promising land...you shall be useful somewhere else. Somewhere that isn't here.

"...Go, Son of Thors...become a true warrior..."

Do Good, To Be Good...Do Good, To Be Good...You're Not Alone...

For the first time today, you felt the agony that dwelled within your heart, boiling there, wating for this moment.

The faces of the people, the mud of the road pressed into your face, the cuffs on your hands. It was a true nightmare.

Ripped away from the second Thorfinn let go of your hand and did not return to you. You still missed his silhouette. It was gone the moment you were hauled out of the place and thrown into the sea.

Thorfinn did not even answer your cires.

No one would now to a slave.

[navegandoaciegas]

Sunshine Girl

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: fluff, soft!Bucky, mentions of injury (no graphic descriptions), 3.6k words

Summary: You are the sun and he’s simply basking in your light. And he’s so selfish, he thinks as he holds the velvet box with the diamond ring inside of it, he’s so damn selfish he wants to keep the light all to himself for the rest of his life.

Two years ago you were supposed to enjoy a solo road trip after years of Avenging, but Bucky invited himself along. Now you’re forced back to New York, and your boyfriend is ready to surprise you once again.

A/N: Bucky’s POV. Sequel to I love my baby to death, but I suppose you could read it on its own. As always forgive any mistakes, English is my third language.

Had to repost this cause it didn’t show up in the tags, hopefully this time it will

“I swear Buck, if I see one more damn corn plant I’m losing it. I am this close” you say pinching your thumb and pointer finger real close “to a mental breakdown. I’m never eating corn again, mark my words. No corn flakes, no corn on the cobble, no nothing. I’m done.”

“We’re in Iowa, in the middle of the corn belt, I don’t know what you were expecting.” he replies, slightly amused by your little outburst and sour mood.

“Well, clearly not ending up on the set of Children of the corn.” you groan, getting back to sulking in the passenger’s seat, seething at the fields that are only a scapegoat to the real problem.

You’d been merrily skiing in Montana when his skis got somehow tangled with yours and he tumbled down on you, dragging you down the slope. Hadn’t you injured yourself, rolling in the snow like it only ever happens in cartoons would have been pretty comical.

“What?” you screech, almost jumping off the stretcher and grimacing in pain when your left foot hits the metal poles at the side. “No. It’s just pain, I’m sure it will go away, right? I mean I was an Avenger, I’ve suffered worse than a fall.”

“I’m sorry, miss, but knee surgery will be necessary, the MRI here shows you’ve torn your ACL and from the looks of it, your left knee was already damaged badly, numerous times at that, probably a result of your time on the field.”

“I can’t, I can’t just get surgery, we’re miles away from home and I-”

You’re almost sobbing and Bucky feels like shit because he’s the reason for all this and all he can do now is pat your back reassuringly.

“Given the extent of the damage, I’m afraid there’s no other option.”

“How long is the recovery time?” he asks, voice unsure.

“Well, it’s my knowledge she’s not an enhanced individual, so like any average human it will take anywhere from 6 to 9 months to recover fully. In the meantime, no more hikes or sports.”

Bucky inhales a sharp breath. Six to nine months. No more hikes. Surely you’ll have to go back to New York.

God, you are so going to break up with him.

Turns out you didn’t dump him in Montana, you didn’t abandon him in one of those auto stops along Interstate 90 in South Dakota, and you don’t seem to want to break up with him amidst the green fields of Iowa, but still, he knows he will drive through Illinois, Indiana, Ohio and Pennsylvania anxiously waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It almost seems like a cruel twist of fate, driving the same route you did as friends two years ago, along Interstate 80 headed East instead of West, only this time he’s not hoping to be more than the annoying old man who invited himself on your trip; he’s your boyfriend now, but maybe not for long.

“You know, you really are dramatic.” you say in a teasing tone, “I’m not going to break up with you, stop thinking about that, it was an accident, ‘s not like you beat me.”

“I know, I’m just sorry because you’re in pain and it’s my fault and now we have to get back home but I know you wanted to stay more and I did too and if I didn’t-” he’s rambling, and your place your hand on his thigh and squeeze reassuringly, offering him one of those sweet smiles he dies for.

“Buck, it’s okay” you interrupt his word vomit “like I said a million times before, it was an accident, it’s going to be fine I promise. I’m sorry if I made you think otherwise with my mood, I swear I’m just pissed at all this damn corn. We’re never going to a maze again, by the way.” That gets a laugh out of him, and he loves you even more because you’re always there to lift his spirits. “I’m dreading these next months, the surgery, physiotherapy and all, but I know you’re there for me, yes?”

He nods, teary eyed, and you continue, “And I can’t lie, it’s been a while, I’m kind of excited to see everyone again, I mean except for Sam of course,” you say, as if he didn’t “live rent free in your head”, like Sam himself put it, “Jesus that man, how many of our trips has he invited himself on? I’ve lost count. ‘Member when we found him waiting for us in Phoenix? Fuckin’ weirdo.”

You both chuckle at the memory of Sam in your motel room, waiting on your bed with crossed arms like a disappointed parent, pissed off because you hadn’t called in a week and he was worried sick that something may have happened to you, a deadly sniper, and him, the Winter fuckin’ Soldier. Truth is, Bucky was so excited about your new relationship that he rarely let you leave the bed when you were in your room, and when you did you were in no condition to Facetime anyone, with your smudged mascara and swollen lips.

“I’ve heard Clint will come visit us with Laura and the kids. Nathaniel must be so big now.” you add, your eyes glazed over as you think of the little boy who was named after your Natasha.

“God, Morgan is probably all grown up.” he muses, a tinge of sadness in his voice. You squeeze his thigh again. “And the spider kid too, he’s a grown man now.”

“That he is.” you chuckle, “But to me he’ll always be the boy in the red spanx who knocked us on our asses in Berlin.”

He smiles and shakes his head at the memory, and you both fall in a comfortable silence. Now that he’s not consumed by fear anymore, Bucky kind of agrees with you that all this green is, in fact, nauseating.

“You know what, no more popcorn either.”

“Deal.”

-

A year and something ago

Arizona

“Can you believe there’s a city in New Mexico called Truth or Consequences? We should totally go and visit just for the hell of it, sounds like the type of place Steve Rogers should have been born into.” you state with all the seriousness in the world, and he snorts because after all this time you still haven’t found it in yourself to stop mocking Steve’s righteousness.

You’re walking ahead of him and he’s so distracted by your tiny denim shorts that he, the master of stealth, almost trips over a boulder. You’re always pretty but tonight, illuminated by the orange sky of Arizona, you look like a dream. And you’re so happy, snapping photos at everything you see, that even if Bucky hates the desert and the heat makes him uncomfortable, he won’t tell you, because the look on your face makes it all worth it.

“Baby, look at this big boy here, he’s like 20 feet tall. Oh my god, he’s so cute and beefy, just like you.” you gush at one of the giant cactuses of Saguaro National Park.

He raises his eyebrows skeptically.

All he sees are green spiky motherfuckers that he’s accidentally hurt himself with more times that he’d like to admit in all those damn ‘hikes’ you like so much, but to you cactuses are the most beautiful sight in the word. He genuinely does not see the appeal, but he understands now how you feel when he talks about all his ‘nerd shit’, as you call it.

“I’m cuter.” he says frowning.

“Of course you are.”

For some reason you don’t sound convincing at all.

-

It’s only spring but here in Tucson the temperature is 85 degrees today and he’s sweating buckets underneath the long sleeved t-shirt he’s wearing to conceal his vibranium arm. He’s long past the time when he was forced to hide from authorities or the general public’s judgement, but still he doesn’t want to be recognized and attract attention. He doesn’t do well with crowds, and he doesn’t understand how you can be so calm and collected when people stare at you and ask for photographs while you’re minding your own business.

As soon as you get back to the motel you’re staying at he takes off his soaked shirt, not caring that the air conditioning is probably going to end his old ass.

“What the hell happened to you?” you ask, scowling as you analyze the skin around his prosthetic.

He shrugs. “It happens sometimes.”

“Why?”

“No idea.”

“Don’t you fuckin’ lie to me James.”

You only call him that when he’s in big trouble. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose: why do you have to be so damn stubborn all the damn time? “It’s nothing sweetheart, just sometimes the skin becomes flared when it’s too hot.”

“Nothing?” you shrill, throwing your hands around animatedly, “Nothing? Bucky your whole shoulder is super red and irritated, don’t act like it’s normal. We’ve been in the sun for hours, for days really, why didn’t you tell me anything? I would have driven us back here immediately. Does it hurt?”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you, I didn’t want to ruin your fun, you liked it so much there. And no, it only itches a little.”

Your eyes soften and you move to cup his face in your hands, looking at him with so much love that he feels himself melt away into a puddle, “Baby you don’t need to do that, you know I care more about you than anything else.”

“Even more than the cactuses?”

“Well, now you’re asking too much of me.”

He snorts and playfully hits your arm, then he falls back on the bed and drags you down with him. You stay cuddled like that for a while before you pull back to look into his eyes.

“I appreciate you doing this for me Buck, but you don’t ever need to sacrifice your own comfort for me, okay?”

“I know, I’m sorry. But you looked so happy.”

“Don’t be, and I’m always happy with you, I promise.”

“I’m always happy too.”

“We’re such saps. Gross. Anyways, guess where we’re going next?” you ask him cheerfully, scratching his scalp the way that makes him purr like a cat.

“The plan was New Mexico, Texas and Louisiana, right?” he frowns. You’d made plans together ages ago and you were so excited about visiting Texas of all places for God knows what reason. He’s predicted already that he won’t stand the suffocating, humid heat of that whole area. At least Arizona was dry as hell.

You on the other hand, everyday he’s become more aware of how much of a lizard you are, seeking the sun and walking around in the scorching heat not even breaking a sweat.

“Guess again baby boy, we’re going straight to Oregon. I mean, it's not Alaska but it’s not as hot as the desert here, right?

“Wait, what? Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to overheat?” you state like it’s obvious, rolling your eyes, “We’ll do New Mexico and the rest next fall, and now Oregon and Washington because it’s a little cooler there. So what do you say?” You ask with a hopeful look in your eyes.

“Princess I appreciate you doing this for me, but I promise I’ll be fine. You don’t have to change plans for me, this is your road trip.”

“No you won’t Buck, you’re not doing good and I don’t ever want to see you suffer, you understand? By the time we get to Texas it will be summer and you won’t stand it, it’s better if we visit when it’s colder.”

He smiles softly. He knows he’d do the same for you. “Then Oregon it is.”

You get up from the bed and head to the bathroom to shower, “Oh, and baby?” you call out,  peeking your head from behind the door, “This is your road trip too, never forget that.”

-

Oregon

“Why does Thor get to have places named after him and we don’t? We were Avengers too.”

“But are we norse gods?”

“I mean, not yet, but I definitely deserve some nature’s wonder, or at least a star, to be named after me.”

“I’ll call WMO and get them to name a hurricane after you, princess. It seems more fitting.”

“Asshole.”

You’d been camping somewhere in Oregon’s wilderness when he came up with the idea of visiting all of the State’s so called seven wonders, starting from Thor’s Well on the Coast and ending in Mount Hood near Portland. You took a thousand photos of each attraction and sent a video of the water seemingly draining inside the famous well to the God himself, who enthusiastically expressed his appreciation.

Bucky’s cherished every minute of it, from the hot springs of Crater Lake to the chillier temperatures at night that force you to snuggle closer to him to warm up.

You’re in Portland now, and you’re thoroughly enjoying it, but what’s new about that? You’re always so full of life, so genuinely excited about everything the world has to offer that he’d be worried if you weren’t having the time of your life as you usually are.

He likes the city too, which is saying a lot.

“Blueberries are the superior berry and that’s the hill I’m willing to die on.”

You’ve been eating your way through Portland for weeks, and you’ve been discussing pies for a solid thirty minutes now. It’s raining outside and you’re cooped up in a small pie shop, eating more than an average human can and receiving weird looks from the waitress as you tell her to ‘keep ‘em coming’.

“I’m sorry but you’re wrong princess,” he states with a stuffed mouth just for the sake of aggravating you to no end, “blackberries are just so much better.”

It works as you grimace in disgust, both at his statement and his manners.

He’s found out you are weirdly opinionated when it comes to pies: pecan pies are an abomination, pumpkin doesn’t belong in dessert, lemon pie and key lime pie are only acceptable if someone’s grandma is kindly offering them to you, rhubarb pie without strawberries is a threat to mankind and cherry and blueberry pies are the absolute best. Apple pie is too bland to even take the time to discuss it, although the taste is likeable enough.

He on the other hand likes anything pie and anything sweet. And anything that gets a rise out of you.

“Please Buck, this isn’t even a blackberry pie, it’s some sort of inbred experiment that turned out kinda right.”

He shushes you, barely holding back a laugh when he sees the waiter side eyeing you as you disrespect one of Oregon’s most famous dishes, “First of all, it’s called marionberry and it’s a type of blackberry. And second, keep it down unless you want us to be kicked out, you’re offending a whole state.”

“Sorry.” you shrug, “But blueberry tartness level is where I draw the line, anything more than that is unacceptable.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re still a child and haven’t developed adult taste buds yet baby.” He does love his senior citizen card a bit too much.

This earns him a kick under the table and a scowl. “Stop it, grandpa.” you groan.

He grins and digs in your slice of marionberry pie. You resume to people watching.

God, he loves Oregon. And he loves you.

He really is a sap.

-

Wyoming

Washington was nice enough. You’ve taken him bar crawling most nights, and all of them have ended with him giving you a piggyback ride, per your request, back to the hotel room you were staying at.

It takes 13 hours to drive from Seattle to Yellowstone and you’ve driven all the way. You refused to disclose the destination of the trip and he’s fallen asleep the last 3 hours in the car. He’d mentioned he wanted to see the geysers somewhere in Pennsylvania two years ago and you remembered and took him.

Bucky couldn’t be happier.

He’s still describing the constellations above you when you fall asleep, and he’s so absorbed by the sky that he doesn’t notice until your head falls on his shoulder and he hears your soft snores.

He picks you up bridal style and takes you back to the fancy tent he bought on a whim in Ohio after you both slept in the SUV and woke up with major back and neck pain. He smiles as he removes your makeup with a wipe and does your skincare just the way you taught him, and admires your relaxed state.

He grazes your pretty face with his vibranium fingers, something so unimaginable to him before he met you, as he never thought his arm could bring anything other than pain.

Back when he was a semi stable 100 year old man thrust in another fight yet again, he hadn’t realized the extent of his feelings for you, believing he was only attracted to your beauty and youth. He hadn’t seen the way your smile lights up a whole room, nor the way you listen, truly listen, to anyone who may have anything to tell you, without ever judging them. He hadn’t witness your kindness and patience, let alone experienced them on his own skin. He hadn’t been lucky enough to watch you feed bird seed to the ducks of every pond of the country, or try to rescue a cat from a rooftop and almost falling off to save it.

Then Sam told him you were leaving and he felt like the word was collapsing on him. He’d found the sunlight and he never wanted to be without it.

Now he’s seen it all, all the little things that make you who you are, including your flaws, and he loves you not regardless of them, nor in spite of them, but because even your worst imperfections make you… you.

Bucky doesn’t know if meeting you was a way for the universe to fix all the wrongs that have been done to him, a sort of payback for all the shit he’s been put through, but in case it is, then he’s got no objections. And maybe he doesn’t deserve someone as good as you, but he’s a selfish man, and now that his sunshine girl is with him he never wants to plunge back into the the darkness ever again.

He tucks you both under the sleeping bag and snuggles next to you.

“Buck?” you mumble in a haze, tugging at his t-shirt, “Love you.”

It’s almost imperceptible, but his supersoldier hearing allows him to pick it up. He kisses the crown of your hair as he caresses your back.

“I love you too sweetheart.”

He wants to spend the rest of his time on Earth proving you how much.

-

New York

6 months later

The doctor wasn’t lying when she warned you that recovery would take 6 to 9 months.

You said the aftermath of the operation hurt like a bitch and that physiotherapy hurt even more. Today’s your last session and Bucky is glad about it for many reasons, like how you’re not in pain anymore for starters, and maybe because of how annoyingly fun, smart and hot your therapist is. Not like he’d ever admit it to you.

“Jesus,” you groan, “he turned me inside out like a sock, I can’t feel my legs anymore.”

“Sounds fun.” he deadpans.

“Someone’s jealous of the doctor?” you ask with a mischievous smirk.

“‘M not. He’s not all that.” he mumbles, blushing like a school boy.

You snort and drawl a ‘sure’. He sends you his best death glare.

“Whatever. I hope you don’t mind if we take a stop before going home.” he announces, helping you into the car. His palms feel clammy and he’s sweating despite the chilly winds of New York’s fall.

“Sure, where are we going?”

“Actually, that’s kind of a surprise, you’ll see.”

You beam at his words; he knows you love surprises and he hopes you’re going to like this one.

----

You look radiant as you lie on the blanket he’s spread on the grass, surrounded by colorful foliage. You’re sipping some of your favorite wine and nibbling on crackers as you admire a flock of birds migrating south in the sky.

You are the sun and he’s simply basking in your light. And he’s so selfish, he thinks as he holds the velvet box with the diamond ring inside of it, he’s so damn selfish we wants to keep the light all to himself for the rest of his life.

He’s prepared a long, passionate speech to tell you how much he loves you, of all the ways you’ve changed his life for the better and of all the reasons why he’d be a good husband.

But when you look at him with those bright eyes and beaming smile, he can barely remember his own name. He drops on one knee and holds the box out with shaky hands.

“Marry me, please.”

----

Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please reblog and comment, don’t be shy, feedback is always appreciated 🥺🤲

[jingabitch]

Lit Up

Summary: Christmas drabble in the Fucked Up verse, in which you leave the house to prepare a Christmas surprise for the boys, who come home early and discover you gone.

Warnings: yandere | explicit language | explicit descriptions of sexual acts | dark shit | reader has major issues

Rating: E

Pairings: mainly Yoongi x reader; bg ot7 x reader

Word count: 4.3k

Series index

Christmas is one of your favourite times of the year. It always has been, since you were a child. You have few fond memories of your childhood, but Christmas had always been nice, and you remember spending time with your family. Back before the drinking and debt and screaming, but even after all that had started, at least at the beginning, your parents had made an effort to have nice Christmas celebrations.

This Christmas, the boys are back home - and so are you. It doesn’t mean that they have the day off, much to your displeasure, but they’d promised to be back in time for dinner. Seokjin bought a ham and there are ingredients for all sorts of delicious side dishes in the fridge. It’s going to be a feast, and you can’t wait.

Still, though. Food does not a Christmas party make. With the boys so busy, you hadn’t dared broach the subject of gifts or decorations, knowing there was no way any of them had the time to accompany you to various stores to pick up everything. Sure, you could order whatever it is you wanted online, but part of the fun of Christmas is the actual shopping, and it’s something you so badly want to share with them.

Fantasies of them coming home to a Christmas tree, all ready for you to decorate together, and prettily wrapped gifts, fill you with delight. It’ll be so much fun, you think, almost clapping your hands with excitement. They aren’t supposed to be home till six, were going to have a late dinner since Seokjin wanted to cook even though he was going to be arriving back at the same time as them… you have plenty of time. You know they would worry if they come back and find you missing, but they won’t be mad if you’re already back, and they see that nothing bad happened to you.

With that thought in mind, you get ready for your first solo trip outside the apartment since you arrived here. As much as you love this place, the thought of going out alone, like you used to, is a heady one. You’ve not even really explored the streets in your neighbourhood, and you used to like taking long walks.

Well, they became a lot more fun when you knew Yoongi was walking with you.

Dressing in your warmest clothes (and filching Yoongi’s scarf because you like the way he smells, okay?) you grab all of the emergency cash in the drawer on your way out, and the keys to Jeongguk’s car. Driving in Seoul isn’t the easiest, but you don’t see any other way to get all the ornaments and gifts, not to mention the tree.

Sitting in the driver’s seat, your overcoat carelessly tossed into the passenger seat, you unlock your phone and deactivate the spyware they’d installed to keep tabs on what you search and where you are. Won’t do to have them figuring out your surprise from you using Google Maps to navigate the city, after all.

Humming under your breath, you turn on the radio absently as you key in the name of the shop you want to go to. You’ve gotten your ornaments from this little hole in the wall since before the boys, since your first Christmas alone in Seoul. It hadn’t been as much fun only buying enough decorations for just your mini-tree and studio apartment, but it had been all right. The handmade items made by the kindly middle-aged lady were pretty enough to make up for it.

As you make your way to the store, the radio starts playing a radio interview with BTS and you giggle to yourself. Your boys are so prim and proper on the air, no one would ever guess that Namjoon wrote half the songs of their latest comeback with his cock tucked inside you, or that Jimin and Taehyung’s friendship is based on commonalities far greater (and kinkier) than both being members of the 95 line.

All those secrets are yours and yours alone, and you smile contentedly as you listen to their nonsensical answers to the question of what their ideal type is, because it’s all bullshit. You know what their ideal type is; because you’ve put in a lot of effort to be that for every one of them.

Parking the car in a roadside lot, you get out and grab all your stuff, spending a minute putting your coat and scarf back on, before locking the door and walking the few doors down to the shop.

“Good morning, aunty!” you say cheerily as you duck slightly to avoid hitting your head on the wind chimes she’d hung over the door.

“Ah, Y/N, hello, sweetheart. I haven’t seen you around recently; you didn’t even come to buy Christmas ornaments last year.” As your eyes adjust to the relative darkness of the store after being outside in the sun, you spot the shopkeeper standing behind the counter.

“Yeah, I was travelling last Christmas, aunty. I came to get new ones this year, though! I moved into a bigger place and need more this time,” you inform her delightedly, looking around the store. Spotting some delicate crystal ornaments, you move closer to them, and pick one up, a pretty snowflake.

The shopkeeper, seeing what caught your fancy, smiles. “I should have known you’d go for those,” she says. “You might like these to go with that too,” she directs your attention to some sparkly baubles and a wreath that’s white and black instead of the usual green.

Once you’ve bought almost all the snow- and winter-themed decorations in stock, you go all over Seoul buying presents for the boys - an expensive kitchen knife with his initials carved into the handle for Seokjin, a first-edition of one of Namjoon’s favourite books, accessories, clothing and shoes for the more fashion-oriented boys, and so on.

For Yoongi, though, your precious Yoongi, regular gifts will not be enough. What do you buy for the man who gave you everything?

Humming in deep thought, you spin in a circle in the middle of Myeongdong. What should you get? You check the time - it’s already three in the afternoon, and you only have three hours to get his gift, the Christmas tree, and haul ass back to the apartment.

Sighing, you head dejectedly back to the car. There has to be something special you can get for him.

There’s a place that sells Christmas trees near the outskirts of Seoul, and you drive there, humming along to the radio. Christmas really is your favourite time of the year, you think, smiling at the cover of Jingle Bell Rock currently playing. Maybe you’ll be able to persuade some of the boys to serenade you tonight, not that it’s ever difficult to.

On your way to the store, you drive past a tattoo and piercing store and inspiration suddenly strikes you. On a whim, you decide to get your ears pierced to match Yoongi’s. It’s not much, but it’ll be cute, you think, matching his accessories. It can be your little thing, even if no one will ever know since you’ll never be seen in public together.

You only have the basic lobe piercings, so you end up getting three additional holes punched into your earlobes, although thankfully he let his helix piercing close up so you don’t have to do anything like that.

It doesn’t take too long, and before you know it you’re back on track, going to pick up a Christmas tree. You’re just pulling into the parking lot when your phone dies, and you huff. It’s been long enough not going out for a long time, or alone, that you’ve completely forgotten basic things like bringing along a power bank, so you suppose you’ll just have to make do until you get home.

It won’t be that bad - you know the way home, at least - but it makes you a little antsy not being contactable, so you resolve to hurry up so you can go home soon.

There’s just one hitch in your plans, though - the boys got home two hours early. Which you didn’t know, because your phone died and you had no idea they were even blowing it up.

While you were excitedly choosing a pretty tree that you genuinely had no idea how you would muscle up from the garage into the apartment, the boys are walking into said apartment, full of anticipation for your delighted response to them coming back early to spend more of Christmas with you, because of course they know of your love for the holiday.

Yoongi tries (and fails) to hide his excitement as he toes off his shoes before opening the door to the apartment. The others follow more sedately, content to let Yoongi be the one to announce their arrival.

The moment he steps into the apartment, though, he can tell that something is wrong. You don’t appear from behind a corner, or even call out a greeting, as is usual for you. It’s the middle of the day, so you haven’t gone to sleep yet.

Yeontan comes bounding out to greet the boys, but he’s conspicuously alone.

“Y/N?” Yoongi calls, unease slithering down his spine. Yeontan barks, turning around in a circle, and Taehyung picks the dog up.

“Hyung, why are you just standing there?” Hoseok asks, and Yoongi takes a few steps forward so that the rest of the boys can come into the apartment too.

He calls your name again as he walks through the hallway to the living room, then, not finding you, pops his head into the kitchen and then to the bedrooms. The others cotton on fairly quickly to the issue, and help out, opening the doors to their own bedrooms to see if you’re in there.

It becomes obvious that you’re not in the apartment, and this results in chaos and panic among the boys. Yoongi is, of course, the worst off, barely able to comprehend that you would leave. You’d given no indication of being unhappy or dissatisfied, and things had been going great recently. Your relationship is, in every aspect, unusual, but it works for all parties involved - or so he’d thought.

Namjoon, seeing that Yoongi is on the verge of a breakdown, quickly intervenes, guiding the older man to the couch and sitting him down on it.

“Don’t worry,” he reassures him. “We’ll find her, okay? There’s no way she can get away from us all.”

Indeed, the others are already leaping into action. Jeongguk, the one who installed the spy software on your phone, is already booting up his computer to track your location, and the other boys are tearing the apartment apart searching for clues.

“Shit, she took all the money in the drawer,” Hoseok curses as he opens said drawer in the kitchen to check.

“How much was in there?” Jimin asks, looking over his roommate’s shoulder.

Hoseok shrugs and looks over at Namjoon. “I don’t know… I just put some in whenever I had cash on me that I didn’t want to bring out,” he says, and the other boys nod and murmur their agreement.

Concluding that this means you have a lot of cash at your disposal, they sigh heavily and stare despondently at each other. Yoongi looks like he’s about to burst into tears, and Jimin and Taehyung sit next to each other, sulking.

The bad news isn’t done coming, though. Jeongguk stumbles out of his bedroom in shock. “I can’t track her phone,” he breathes, blinking in bewilderment. The others’ gazes snap towards him immediately.

“What do you mean, you can’t track her?” Namjoon demands, hurrying over to push Jeongguk back into his room so they can see his computer.

“Look, the last traced location of her phone is the apartment complex, and that was in the morning,” he explains. “She’s gone off the grid all day.”

“Is the phone off? Did she manage to disable it?” Hoseok asks, peering over the maknae’s shoulder.

“I’ll need to ask my friend, he’s the one who would know how to check.”

“All right, let’s go then.”

Before long, all of them have their marching orders. Jeongguk is going to seek out the friend that wrote the software for him, Namjoon, Hoseok and Jin are going to the bus and train terminals and the airport to see if she left by any of those means, and Taehyung and Jimin are going to review the footage on all the CCTVs installed in and around their apartment complex to see if they have any clues about where you went.

As for Yoongi - Namjoon tells him to stay in the apartment and try to find any clues as to what happened to cause her to suddenly take flight, since he’s the one who knows her best, but really, he looks like such utter shit, barely able to keep himself together, that none of them think it’s a good idea for him to be out in public right now.

Blissfully unaware of all the chaos you’ve caused in your home, you hum along to the song playing on the radio as you return to the apartment complex, zipping neatly into Jeongguk’s designated parking lot. As you climb out of the car, you hum thoughtfully to yourself as you eye the tree shoved into the backseat and think about all the packages in the boot. There’s no way you’ll be able to bring it all up in one go, and you sigh as you wish for a moment that the boys had come with you, because all that muscle would sure come in handy right about now.

With a sigh, you yank open the car door and wrestle the tree out of the backseat, bumping the door shut with your hip after. Somehow managing to get it to the lift lobby, you heave out a breath and press the button for the elevator. 

By the time you push, pull and pivot your way back to the apartment, you’ve broken out in a sweat and your muscles are screaming. Putting the tree down, you key in the code for the lock, taking the opportunity to lean against the door. When the lock makes that little jingle and you hear the door unlock, you pull it open and push it carefully so it stays that way, retrieving the tree and bringing it into the entryway.

You’re taking your shoes off and getting ready to open the door into the apartment proper when it bursts open unexpectedly. With a little squeak of surprise, you take a step back, looking up with wide eyes.

“Yoongi-oppa…” you greet him out of habit, although your voice trails off uncertainly as you take in the expression on his face. “What are you doing home so early?”

He glares at you, his arms crossed over his chest, although when you look closer, you can see that although he tries to look steely and furious, his hair is a mess from his hands running through it, parts of his shirt are soaked through with sweat, and it looks like there are tear streaks on his face.

“Are you okay?” you ask in concern, letting go of the tree to take a step towards him.

“Where have you been?” he spits out instead of answering your question, in a tone you’ve never heard from him before. It’s husky and soft, almost wavering like he’s in anguish, but dangerous, a thread of steel running through it. 

Shit. You don’t know what happened while you were gone, but with the way he looks and sounds, you can tell you’re going to be in for a rough time. “Oppa - ” you say, holding your hands out placatingly, but he’s having none of it as he grabs your wrist and yanks you to him. You stumble up the step leading into the apartment and crash ungracefully into him, your free hand going to his waist to stabilize yourself.

“Who told you you could leave without permission?” he grinds out, the hand that doesn’t have a death grip on your wrist going to grasp your face, his long fingers stretching over your jawline as he holds you fast, making sure you couldn’t look away from him if you tried.

“I… I wanted to surprise you, oppa, with Christmas gifts and a tree for everyone,” you try to explain meekly, although your words come out a little muffled because he’s still gripping your jaw. His grip tightens a little, and you wince. “Oppa, you’re hurting me,” you protest.

“I’m hurting you?!” he exclaims incredulously. “Do you fucking know what you’ve done? Everyone is out there looking for you, because you vanished without a word. Do you know how…” he pulls you further into the apartment, into the hallway just past the entrance, “worried,” he pushes you to the floor roughly, “we all were?!” His hands on your hips flip you around so you’re on all fours, desperately craning your neck back to see him.

His expression is pinched as he glares down at you, his throat working convulsively as he swallows. His eyes, though - they make you clench down on yourself almost involuntarily. His gaze is so intense, swirling with anger and something like despair, and yet another emotion that you can’t quite place. The lust, though, is extremely evident in both his eyes and the set of his jaw.

Rooting in his pocket for his phone, he slides it across the floor to you. “Call Namjoon now and tell him where you’ve been,” he orders tightly.

You’re confused - everything has been happening so damn quickly - but the way he unbuckles his belt clarifies things for you real quick. It feels a little wrong for you to be reacting so quickly and viscerally, especially when you know that Yoongi isn’t in the best state emotionally, but you can’t help it.

“I don’t hear you calling him,” he bites out, fighting with the layers of clothing you have on. It must be a comical sight, you’re sure - the long coat half flipped over your back, your upper half still completely clothed and looking like a puffy dumpling as he fiercely tugs the pants and leggings over your legs. It’s getting a little warm, and you balance yourself with one hand as you unwrap Yoongi’s scarf with the other, dropping it carelessly on the ground next to you. You try to fiddle with the overcoat, but before you have a chance to do anything more than unzip it, Yoongi yanks the clothing covering your legs all the way off and you squeal in surprise as your knees go flying, causing your entire body to drop to the ground.

You barely have time to register the pain, however, because the next thing you know, Yoongi’s fingers are thrusting harshly into you. As wet as you are, you aren’t quite ready and the pain ricochets through your body, causing you to clamp down hard as your brow furrows in discomfort.

“Why are you so wet, hmm? Does it turn you on to run away from me?” Yoongi hisses, fingering you roughly to open you up even as he knocks your knees apart further and gets into position behind you.

“I - what?” Bewildered, you try to sit back to ask him why he was so upset, but he pushes you back down with his hand between your shoulder blades, sliding it up to grip the back of your neck as he lines himself up and thrusts savagely into you, bottoming out in one stroke.

You cry out, your hands clenching into fists as you turn to press your face against the smooth material of your jacket. With your face buried in your shoulder like that, your cries are muffled, but he’s not having any of it, gripping your hair into a loose ponytail with the hand that was on your neck and yanking your head back.

“Call. Namjoon,” he orders, punctuating every word with a snap of his hips. Bracing yourself by lowering your elbows onto the ground, you fiddle with his phone with shaky hands, barely able to handle it with the punishing pace he’s set, jostling you around like that.

When you finally manage to call Namjoon, you drop it on the floor between your fists, letting the phone ring on speaker.

“Hyung, what’s up?” comes Namjoon’s harried voice.

If you thought that Yoongi would let up on you a little, so you could actually speak to Namjoon the way he seemed to want, you’re wrong.

“Joonie-oppa, I- agh.” Whatever you were about to say cuts off in a garbled moan as Yoongi takes the opportunity to slam into you, harder than ever before. You skid across the floor, not helped by the fact that you’re still wrapped up in your coat which doesn’t allow you to get a good grip on the marble.

“Y/N?! Is that you?” Namjoon demands.

“Ye - ngh - yes.” Your mewl, coupled with the rhythmic grunts and groans Yoongi is releasing as he presses his chest to your back, sucking livid marks into your neck, give Namjoon a fairly clear idea of what’s going on.

“Jesus, Y/N, are you at home? Where the hell have you been?”

Your attempt to reply is foiled by Yoongi sneaking a hand down your body to strum at your clit, causing your mind to blank as you clench down on him, causing both of you to groan in unison.

“Jesus,” Namjoon mutters. “I’ll talk to you when I get home,” he says before hanging up.

With that out of the way, Yoongi redoubles his efforts to work you over, fucking you hard and fast even as he continues his ministrations on your clit. “No one else can fuck you this good, can they? Only I can make you feel like this,” he growls in your ear.

You’re so lost in the onslaught of sensation he’s forcing onto you that you don’t answer him fast enough for his liking, and he retaliates with a pinch to your clit. “Can they?!” he repeats in a hard voice, and you cry, “No, only you!”

That seems to satisfy him, and he rewards you by driving you up to orgasm faster than has ever happened before, but right before you’re about to tumble headfirst into ecstasy, he slows down, so the orgasm hovers right out of your grasp. Holding you still as you writhe and cry in protest, he asks, in the same harsh tone as before, but with a strange note of vulnerability threaded through it, “You won’t leave me again, will you? You’ll stay with me always?”

Confused again, and barely able to marshal your senses to figure out why he was being like that, you sob in frustration. If he wants to have a serious conversation, why now? Why does he sound so pained, desperate, anguished?

“Y/N!” he cries out, and you can physically feel him holding his orgasm back as he waits for your response.

“No, I won’t leave,” you finally force out, and immediately he slams back into you, biting down savagely on your neck as he comes harder than you ever recall. Feeling him release into you triggers your own orgasm, and you press your cheek to the ground as you keen.

When it’s over, you slump to the ground, now uncomfortably sticky in your clothes but lacking the coordination and strength to remove the layers. Yoongi, still breathing hard, helps flip you over onto your back and pushes the coat off your shoulders, holding it still while you wriggle your arms out of it.

Now far more comfortable, you shed the other layers you were wearing, only stopping when you’re lying nude on the floor, blinking up at Yoongi, who’s still fully dressed. He stares down at you with an inscrutable gaze, and you hold your arms out for him, inviting him to cuddle.

He looks hesitant, but ultimately can’t resist and lies down on the ground next to you, reaching over to pull you closer into his side.

“I’m sorry I was so rough earlier,” he apologizes. “I just got a little crazy at the thought that you had run away.”

Your heart breaks at that. “Oh, sweetie - I never wanted to run away. I was just getting presents and a tree so we could have a nice Christmas celebration,” you explain. “Besides, it’s nothing I couldn’t handle,” you reassure him with a squeeze of his hand, referencing some of the other boys’ rougher proclivities.

“Still,” he persists, brushing your sweaty hair away from your forehead. “You were just gone when we came back, and all the money in the drawer was too, and then Jeongguk said he couldn’t trace-” Suddenly aware that he’s said too much, he clams up.

“Oh, I had to deactivate the tracker or else it wouldn’t have been a surprise, then my phone died,” you explain with a little wave of your hand. “Speaking of which-” You sit up and dig around in your purse, which had been dropped carelessly on the ground. Finding your phone, you get up and go to the bedroom you share with Yoongi to plug it in.

He follows you, looking slightly lost. “You knew about the tracker?”

You turn and smirk at him. “Have you forgotten what my job was?” A former programmer, you’d realised the day they installed the software that it was there.

“Oh,” was all he could think to say.

You can hear his busy little brain buzzing as you fuss with the items on your bedside table, but it’s still completely unexpected when you turn around to find him on one knee, holding a ring in his hands.

“Will you marry us?”

[honeyxmonkey]

Variantology Day 21: Snow Day

"Varian?" He heard Eugene's voice call from down the hall.

The alchemist tried to ignore it, knowing that his brother would only prompt him to know what was wrong. He really didn't want to think about what was wrong.

A snowstorm raged outside, merciless and out for blood. It beat wickedly against the windows, occasionally blowing them open with its furious wind. It hadn't snowed this badly since... since his dad...

Varian choked back a sob at the memory. He tried to push down the thoughts. The way every instinct in his body was telling him something was wrong and he needed to run. The alarms going off in his head.

His dad was fine. He was with the other members of the Brotherhood in the Dark Kingdom. His dad was safe, so why did Varian still feel so panicked?

Eugene pushed open the door of his lab to find Varian curled into a ball against the table. How long had he been like that? When had he even gotten into that position?

"Varian!" Eugene rushed forward, placing a hand on his head, trying to gently coax him out of the ball. His head was tucked behind his knees so Eugene couldn't see the tears rolling down his face. "Varian, buddy. Talk to me. I need you to focus on my voice."

Eugene knew he was having a panic attack but he didn't know what had triggered it. Everything in the lab seemed fine and Varian had been fine a few hours earlier. He'd even been messing around with him.

Not knowing what to do, he left to get Rapunzel. She'd know what to do.

When they got back, Varian still hadn't moved.

Rapunzel immediately knelt in front of him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Varian, what's wrong? You need to talk to us."

He started muttering under his breath. He sounded desperate. Scared.

"It's not my fault. It's not my fault." He whispered over and over again. "It wasn't my fault. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Varian, look at me." Rapunzel finally got him to look up. She smiled a gentle smile. "There we go. It's me. It's Rapunzel."

His breathing suddenly quickened as he stared at her. Reality crashed with memories, awful, awful memories and he shoved her away from him.

"No! No, no! You promised!" His voice and breathing were ragged and heavy. His eyes were unfocused and his mind was somewhere else entirely. "You promised." His voice broke and he curled in on himself again. "You promised, you promised."

Rapunzel reeled back in shock of his sudden outburst. This wasn't just a panic attack, this was... oh god, he was reliving his past. Every single memory and feeling of the last snowstorm were raging through his mind and Rapunzel didn't know what to do. She probably made it worse. She was part of those bad memories.

"Eu-Eugene," she looked back at her husband who looked just as shocked at Varian's sudden aggressiveness and breakdown. "Get him out of here. Take him to a different room."

Eugene nodded and pulled Varian up and led him out of the room. The kid hadn't even seemed to register he was being moved.

Rapunzel picked up Ruddiger and followed them, walking a little further behind.

When they reached a room with a fireplace Rapunzel instructed Eugene to sit with Varian. She placed Ruddiger in the alchemist's lap and went off to get blankets. Lots of them.

She returned shortly and started to wrap Varian with them as Eugene brought him back to reality. It took awhile but Varian slowly came back to them.

He was still crying but it was more of an apology cry at lashing out earlier.

"Hey, buddy. It's okay. No one blames you for what happened." Eugene rubbed his back as Varian stared numbly into the fire, his tears spent.

Rapunzel warily sat next to him. "Are you okay now?"

Varian nodded. "Yeah... thank you."

He didn't say anything else and that worried Rapunzel a little.

"Are you sure?"

Varian shook his head this time and looked down at his hands.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong."

Rapunzel hugged him. "It's okay. You don't have to be okay yet. I know that it's hard to come back from an attack like that. The only important thing is, you're doing a little better."

Varian nodded and he leaned into Eugene who let him lay his head on his lap. The kid was exhausted after that. His panic attacks often were emotionally and physically draining.

"Just go to sleep, Varian. We'll be here when you wake up."

Varian closed his eyes, letting his exhaustion take over. He fell asleep feeling safe and secure with his family.

[alexhogh7137]

The Battle Between Love and Fire-

Ivar the Boneless × Reader

Chapter Eighteen: Terror in Wessex

Chapter Seventeen

Word Count 1.8k

Warnings: mentions of blood, torture, mentions of rape (no details, just implied), heavy angst

When Hvitserk heard those double doors open, his heart dropped. He knew what that symbolized, and that was his worst fear: him losing you. He rushed Ivar's room and just as he expected, you were gone. Except this is real and not a vision. Where you would normally lay, are a few blood drops in the fur that would cover your body. He almost threw up at the sight but kept himself composed. 

Hvitserk "Ivar...IVAR!" His brother looked over at him and then next to where you would lay. 

Ivar "The guard's-the guard's were supposed to keep watch!" 

Hvitserk "Go see for yourself." Hvitserk knew what his brother would witness as soon as he walked out of those doors, but he didn't want to tell him himself. Ivar needed to witness what happened this horrible night. 

When Ivar opened up the doors fully, there were drag marks in the snow so he followed it. He pauses when he sees the first set of guardsmen that were positioned by the doors. Their throats were slit and they were disarmed. Ivar looks back at his brother, who is standing in the doorway, not moving. Ivar walks on with shaking legs, so scared of what he might witness next. But with his head up, he walked on and followed the drag marks. He can see many more of his men, deceased in the snow. The white, crisp snow is now stained with red blood. The smell is starting to set into the air around him, but him being a viking, is used to such a smell as death. 

Hvitserk "She isn't here!" He shouted from inside. 

Ivar stops in his tracks and his head falls to the ground. He shouldn't have hoped that the vision came true. Why did he hope for such a thing? He walks on, searching for any sign of you but there was none. Your dragon's are whimpering, growling and breathing fire trying to find you. Ivar walks over to them and tries to comfort them but it was no use. He looks behind your dragon's, where the trading post is and finds a blood pile but no body. He falls to the ground and starts to cry. Hvitserk joins him a short while after and sits down in the cold snow.

Hvitserk "How did you let this happen?"

Ivar "I did everything I could-"

Hvitserk "YOU SLEPT BESIDE HER! HOW DID YOU NOT WAKE? She was right next to you, Ivar! But for some reason you did not wake up. Or did you?"

Ivar "N-no I did not. I don't know why I didn't."

Hvitserk "Now, we lost her and many of our guardsmen. We have no idea who took her nor do we know where she is being taken to."

Ivar "I will find out who and where she is Hvitserk. Even if it is the last thing that I do." Hvitserk just scuffs and gets off of the ground and stumbles his way back inside. Ivar lays alone, dragon's frantic behind him, staring at the blood that he knows must be yours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You awake in a dark dungeon-type of place. You attempt to get yourself up and run but your body soon let's you know that you cannot do that. You touch your head and wince out in pain. Your chest feels like you can barely breathe, and it feels like all of your ribs are broken. Your nails are all broken off and your wedding ring is gone. Your legs are scratched to all hell and are freezing. Where are you? You look all around, trying to familiarize yourself. You crawl your way up to the barred window where the small source of light is coming from.

Once your eyes adjust to the scenery, you know exactly where you are. You are home. You fall back down and sob uncontrollably. Why did he take you, and for what purpose? He banned you, so why did he bring you back? And why did he beat you this badly? You let out a scream. A shriek, to be exact. When you do, you can hear footsteps coming from outside of your cell door. You crawl your way into the corner, and hold your limbs close to your body, even though it causes you so much pain. When the door opens, your father appears in the doorway. 

Father "Hello little one. Finally awake, are we?"

"W-why am I here? You banished me!"

Father "Ah yes, that. That is in the past now."

"Why am I here? Why did you beat your only daughter?! Haven't I endured enough torment?!"

Father "I was not responsible for your beatings, dear one."

"Then who was?" You watch as your father smirks at you. He turns his attention to the doorway. You are confused for only a moment. That is, until your sworn enemy comes through the door: King Harald.

Harald "Hello, Y/n. Have you missed me?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hvitserk did not sleep a wink the remainder of the night. He just paced and paced in his room and in yours. He saw your dresses, your accessories, and cried. Cried because he couldn't save you. Cried because the only woman that he has loved since Thora, is gone and he doesn't know what to do. Where to begin. Once Ubbe is awake, he finds his brother's in absolute dispar. 

Ubbe "What happened here?!"

Hvitserk "It came true, Ubbe. My vision. It came true. I lost her."

Ubbe "But the guard's-"

Ivar "Dead. All of them are dead. The one's on duty, that is. Completely massacred."

Ubbe "Who would've done this?!"

Ivar "Greatest guess, her father. But I could be wrong."

Hvitserk "It has to be him, Ivar. He is the only one that has harmed her in the past."

Ivar "That is not completely true."

Ubbe "Than who else, hmm?"

Ivar "King Harald. He killed her mother. So why couldn't it be him? I mean, don't you remember her vision?!"

Hvitserk "Of when he came to Kattegat?" Ivar nods, "Yes, of course I remember."

Ivar "I say we hunt King Harald down. He must know something."

Ubbe "And if he does not?"

Ivar "Then we go to Wessex."

Hvitserk "We should do that first."

Ivar "You are not king! I am, have you forgotten brother, hm?" Hvitserk chuckles and then clenches his jaw. 

Hvitserk "No, I have not forgotten. I also have not forgotten that you were beside her when she was taken, Ivar. Is she here, hm? Is she here, because I can't find her anywhere! And you could've saved her."

Ivar "I did my best-"

Hvitserk "Your best? YOUR BEST?!" Did you not see all of the blood by the trading bank? What if she is gone, hmm? What are you going to do?"

Ivar "I wouldn't worry about that too much, Hvitserk. Life goes on!"

Ubbe "Ivar!" 

Ivar "What?"

Ubbe "Your wife is missing, and possibly very injured. Show some respect!" 

Ivar "I am. I have already ordered my men to prepare our ships.

Ubbe "Good."

Hvitserk gets up and walks away. He is so infuriated that he has to get away from Ivar before he does something that he would regret doing later. How could he say that? How would life go on without her? She is with child. She is his queen, his wife. He feels sick to his stomach. Hvitserk just wants you back home, safely.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seeing King Harald standing beside your father like they are the closest of allies, made you feel more terrified than ever. 

"What are you doing here?"

Harald "Well I am here by your father's request. Y'see we have made an agreement."

"And what is this agreement?"

Harald "Your father will give me anything I desire in this entire world, if I let him stay the King of Wessex."

"And what do you desire? Why am I here?"

Harald "You are what I desire, Y/n. You and your dragon's...fascinate me. You are so unique, so different for anyone else I have ever met. And your dragon's, well...they can be very useful."

"YOU ARE NEVER GETTING MY DRAGON'S!" 

Harald and your father chuckle, "Y'see you are not in any condition to be making such a statement. Look at you, broken and frail."

"Just let me go."

Harald "Oh but I want to get use out of you first!"

"I AM WITH CHILD!" Your father takes a step back. Completely stunned. 

Father "You are what?"

"I am with child. Your grandchild."

Father "You lie! Your husband cannot impregnate you!"

"I am WITH CHILD!" 

Harald "What do we do?"

Father thinks only for a moment, "Beat her for lying to me. Then do whatever you wish to do with her. Just make it quick." 

"No, no, NO!" You scream and shout but it is no use. He hits you, beats you almost to unconsciousness. And then takes you. Uses you as an object for his perverted needs as you sob and beg for mercy. He does not let you go. To him, you are his little price, his little toy that he can do whatever he wants to. Once he is finished with you, he hits you one more time. Hard and powerful. But not just anywhere, no no no...in your belly. You cry hysterically as you hold your belly, still small but growing slowly. Praying that she is okay. You lay on the floor, bleeding from pretty much every area of your body and pray, pray to the gods to let you and your child make it out of this alive. 

"Hvitserk...Ivar...where are you?" You say out loud, as if they could hear you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ivar looks up at the sky, as if he can hear something. Almost a whisper but it is so clear. Clear to him as if the voice was directly next to him. 

"Hvitserk...Ivar...where are you?" 

Ivar "YN?" He turned around but no one was there, especially was not you. He knows that you and him have a connection. Ever since that dream of you before he met you, he knew that you and him were connected not only in marriage but in mind. Meanwhile, Hvitserk is in the middle of another breakdown when he hears your voice in his head. He gets up and runs all around the house, searching for you. But of course, you are still gone. So he searches for his brother next, finding him with your dragon's. 

Hvitserk "Did you hear her?"

Ivar "You heard her too?!"

Hvitserk "Yes. She's...she's alive."

Ivar "We have to go save her. Before it is too late."

Hvitserk whispers to himself, "Hang in there, baby. We're coming. Just hold on. Stay with me."

…

You hear the man that always comes to save you, and you hear him loud and clear. You look down at your belly and smile. 

"Daddy is coming, little one. Hold on for me, please...please stay with us." You look down at the blood coming out between your legs and breathe in deeply. You try not to think about the pain that you are in, and try to think about being saved. You have to be saved. You are not ready for Valhalla. 

@hvitserkmarcosource @a-mess-of-fandoms @jzr201 @youbloodymadgenius @ivarsgoddess @conaionaru @ivarzeitgeist @herestherealproblem @kaitieskidmore1 @heavenly1927 @saldelys

[legolaslovely]

I Will Never Leave You

A/N: Welp! Here we are! I know there are a million of these stories out there but I had to write one of my own! Wrote this after my total breakdown last week when I couldn’t escape Fili’s death scene on my computer. I was innocently looking for fluffy Fili stuff to share and my computer froze on the video! AWFUL! Anyway, this is a little rough in the beginning but it ends in sweet Fi comfort. Hope you guys can relate and enjoy.

Pairing: Fili x Reader

Word Count: 1,283

Warnings: DANGER FOR ANGST HATERS, this has a pretty rough nightmare in it, blood and gore, sad sad sad, but ends in comfort and fluff from both Fili and Kili

Summary: (Y/N) has been plagued by nightmares since the Battle of the Five Armies. Though all are safe, on this night, she dreams her husband, Fili, is not.

Giving you the happiest Fi pic I can find to soothe the soul:

Everything was cold. Cold, frozen, white, snow. Your body trembled, shivered, and you looked around for something familiar. You found nothing. There was nothing. Nothing but cold, frozen, white snow.

Then, sudden warmth. Your fingers were hot and wet. You looked down to see the snow painted red. The color was dripping from your hands, staining your skin and clothes. What is-

“It hurts, amrâlimê.”

Your vision blurred as the world rushed around you, fighting, defending, assisting, screaming, dying. The only clarity was brought by his voice.

“Help me, amrâlimê.”

Under your hands was a gushing, painful, deadly wound. You held pressure, trying to stop the leaking, but blood pooled in the cold, frozen, white snow. A whimper fell from your lips. You weren’t able to help the one below you. Who was it?

“I-I need something, something to bind the wound,” you said. Your voice didn’t reach the one in anguish, it was taken by the floating wind. “You’ll be all right,” you tried to say.

“Please, amrâlimê.”

Then the injured came into focus. First, the blond hair that fanned out over the cold, frozen, white snow. You recognized the beads at the ends of the braids as your own. The etched runes were caked with blood. Next, the armor over his shoulders came into view. It was pierced down the middle. Then the face. The features were twisted in such agony, the once bright eyes fading, the ever present smile non-existent, the dimples painted red.

“Fili.”

“I’m dying, amrâlimê.”

“No.”

Your eyes flew to the wound, desperate to find some way to stop the bleeding, but it was nowhere to be found, though the puddle of red around you was only growing. You unfastened his armor, throwing it to the side and tore open his tunic and saw nothing. But Fili still groaned and writhed under your hands. “I-I can’t help you,” you said.

“It hurts, amrâlimê. Help me, amrâlimê. Please, amrâlimê. I’m dying, amrâlimê.”

“No. Stop- stop saying that. You’re going to be all right.”

You wiped the blood from his face, but more appeared. You looked around frantically for help but everything had disappeared. There was only cold, frozen, white snow, you and Fili.

Then black. An all-encompassing black started enclosing around him, taking first his feet, then his legs, torso and chest. “Fili. Fili, stop. Where-where are you going? Look at me. Fili? Fili!”

“Amrâlimê.”

The black closed around his face, taking him from you forever. “Fi. Fili! Fili!”

“Amrâlimê, wake up. Wake up, (Y/N). It’s all right. Look at me.”

You woke with a jolt. You were trembling and your stomach lurched as you opened your eyes that were blurred with tears. Fili was sitting above you, he’d pulled you into his arms as you slept and screamed his name for the mountain to hear. You sat up and stared at him, holding onto his arms with a bruising grip.

No braids. Warm eyes. Soft dimples. No blood.

“It’s all right, amrâlimê. It was just another-” His voice caught in his throat as you crumbled in his arms. Your hands covered your face in shame as you shook from the force of your sobs. He knew how you felt- that you knew better, that it was indeed just a dream. But the nightmares were too real after the quest. And they’d been plaguing you for months.

He separated his legs and placed you between them, pulling you against his chest. Finally, you opened up to him, wrapping your arms around him and hiding your hot, wet face in the crook of his neck.

“It was just a dream, amrâlimê. Everything’s fine.”

You gasped and your voice shook. Your grip tightened on him and he imagined what your demons had made you see. He wondered if your nightmares were similar to Kili’s. He hoped not. Kili always told him of his terrors in great detail, it was the only way he’d dispel them from his thoughts. You, however, never shared too much with him, as if talking about it would bring the danger back.

When you’d calmed just a bit he asked, “Was it the battle again?”

“It was so real. I…oh, it was so awful, Fili. I couldn’t- I couldn’t help you.”

You spiraled again, weeping desperately. He hushed you, running his fingers through your hair and down your back. He listened to you try and fail to match the rhythm of his breathing. This meant, you’d dreamed he’d died. Again. He pulled you closer. Of course he wished he’d never been attacked in the battle, he didn’t need the pain and the scar of reminder. But he especially wished that you and Kili didn’t have to witness it. He wanted so badly to protect you both from it. But he was failing.

“I’m all right, amrâlimê. It wasn’t real,” he said to you when you couldn’t shake the pain and fear you were feeling. Every time you cried like this, it was as if another crack in his heart broke through. It was torture, he thought selfishly. He leaned his cheek on your head. “I will never leave you.” His voice fell away as he felt his own tears skid down his cheeks.

You noticed his shaky inhale and left the safe place at his neck to look at him. You shook your head and wiped the tears from his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. You didn’t want to bring him into your pain.

He kissed your hand as it passed his lips. “I’m sorry too. We’ll get through this, amrâlimê. We’ll get through these nightmares, to a time where they’ll be only memories.”

You nodded and kissed him. “I love you, Fi.”

“And I, you. With all my heart,” he said, hugging you tight to him.

When you finally calmed and met him breath for calm, serene breath, you drew away and found the scar on his left side. There it was. You ran a finger over it. He was attacked, but you were able to help him. He was safe and healthy and yours.

He wiped the tears falling swiftly down your cheeks and something on the bed side table caught your eye. A small glass jar you’d never seen before. You reached over Fili and took it. “What is this?”

Fili sat up against the headboard of the bed and ran a hand down your back. “Kili brought it.”

“When?”

“You didn’t see, but he came in, arrow nocked when he heard you crying out. When he realized it was a dream that distressed you, he brought this. There’s a note here,” Fili said, picking up a small piece of paper from the table you hadn’t seen. He gave it to you to read.

My dear sister,

The smell of hyacinth helps keep the nightmares at bay.

Sweet dreams,

Love Ki

You huffed, always blown away by Kili’s sweet gestures. Unscrewing the jar allowed the sweet, clean scent of the flower petals to fill your senses. The glass vial was filled to the brim with purple and white circles, freshly picked from the royal gardens. “So, this is why he asked for hyacinths to be planted in the gardens,” you said.

Fili hummed, taking a whiff himself.

“I’ll thank him in the morning,” you said, placing the note and the jar in their spot on the table and gluing yourself to Fili once more.

He kissed your forehead. “Tired?” he asked.

“No. I think I’m awake now for at least a small bit.”

“In that case,” he said, reaching for the drawer of the table and grabbing the book he’d been reading to you after your previous terror. “Where did we leave off?”

Taglist! @emrfangirl @misslongcep @raindancer2004 @ladybugg1235​ @xxbyimm​ @burningcoffeetimetravel​ @fizzyxcustard​ @fire-flv​ @nerdbirdsworld​ @dashesofink​ @teagarages​ @dark-angel-be-thirsty-af​ @winchesterandpie​

[deadcapriwalkin]

Dear, You

It’s insane, it’s been half a year and yet I seem to still catch myself thinking about you every single day. I hate that I miss your smile more than anything. I hate that she took you away from me. You would have rather chose a woman who lets you do drugs than the person who was encouraging you to get better for the sake of your health and your future. You would rather move to an entirely different city with a woman who won’t do anything for you besides provide the resources needed for you to have a guiltless fix..

I remember the day I came home, locked myself in the bedroom and your mother gently tapping on the door with the tips of her fingers so she wouldn’t startle me. For all she saw was my face drenched in tears that symbolized pure fear and my lips turning a shade of purple from the panic of losing you. The days you told me I never cared about you behind a phone screen sitting at home while I’m in the middle of the Target aisle holding on to every fiber of my being to not breakdown and cry in front of everyone around me. I loved you so much, the last thing I wanted to do was lose the person whom I thought loved me.

Days you spend taking your anger out on your mother and I because you lost a video game or maybe lost something that was supposed to be in your possession, possibly the drugs you said you didn’t buy but your inability to pay rent that month was soulfully because the first winters snow had you by the throat and taking your every last breath. Your anger was bone rattling, your voice made it seem like there was an Earthquake in the middle of Wisconsin. I was genuinely terrified of the person you may become further down the road. I watched as you made your mother cry because you didn’t give one full damn about what you said to her. The slamming of doors was impossible to ignore between me, you and your mother; two of us crying and you sitting there angry that you upset us due to what you said to us. The things you said to us really put the deepest pit in my stomach and my heart had never felt so heavy.

There was a time where I had thought you would take your anger out on us physically in a black out rage. That was never the case however, the truly disturbing phrases you claimed me to be as a person or how I was just this awful nightmare for you gave me a shock to my system. I felt utterly disgusted with who I was even though the things you said about me I knew for a fact, were false. You made me believe what you were saying was true though. You took my worst nightmare and made it a pure reality for me.. So I hid from you, locked myself away from you slowly what felt like decaying in a dark room with the food I had snuck into the bedroom without you being home so that way if you saw my face you wouldn’t get upset. The old food on the floor, the truly painful depression setting in to my aching, terrified muscles. Flinching at the sound of footsteps coming towards the door.. Sadly it was never you to come and check in on me.. Your mother was the only one who out of the kindness of her heart, cared about how I felt. Seemed like every single thing angered you, and on the good days I would make sure to walk on eggshells to make sure that, that day you did not strain yourself from yelling. You never seemed to care, I loved you and you were my everything.

I was really fooled on what the depiction of love was. I knew couples fought but this was a complete 180 compared to the normal lovers bickering. Of course, there were good days. But at the end of said days, I still slept in the bed while tears silently poured down my face burning my hot red cheeks while you’re facing the opposite way.. There was no more goodnight kisses from you. 

Crying myself to sleep had become a ritual. It was sooner than later that I had starting sniffling in bed for a different reason other than your anger. The man I loved whom slept next to me at night had been sleeping with another woman. I have to say, you sir were not sneaky. Between the “smoking sessions” with your buddies and not returning until early the next morning to sneaking her into the house after I had told you that I don’t feel comfortable with her in my home. As soon as she had set foot in our living room my body froze into fight or flight mode. She would always pretend to be nice to me, she hadn’t a clue that I had known about the tussles in the sheets after hours. Either of them did not realize that I had certain resources that would tell me a recap whenever he would visit her. I had known how long they’d being seeing each other behind my back for a while at this point and our relationship would just go further downhill to the point he wouldn’t sleep in the bed anymore and I had changed the locks on the bedroom door. My house didn’t feel like home anymore, my little family was being ripped out of my grasp and placed firmly into hers. I was losing every sense of hope I had left.. 

I have regrets please do not get me wrong. Granted, I struggled with forming the correct sentences when attempting to explain myself and how I felt. It was if no matter how I said anything you got angry at me for feeling emotions that I couldn’t control. I would stumble over words, stutter when frazzled and become over emotional because, all I wanted to do was tell you how i felt inside. How it felt to lay in a pit of stomach pressure and an empty beating heart basically dying from the inside out. I wanted you to know and be aware of the things that I had noticed and detected. But you refused to hear me out, I would try and try, I wouldn’t stop pushing until I could get it through your head that I was hurting so badly.. But you didn’t seem to care. You, you were my person; someone I should’ve been able to confide in, express my feelings and be open, honest. We were supposed to be a team but that faded away very quickly. 

Like I said, I have regrets during the relationship. I know I wasn’t perfect and there could always be room for improvement. Although to this day I really do believe we were soulmates, we were just two very different people. You lacked sympathy, empathy and all around a cold person. I was the person who felt everything too much, felt your emotions, moms and my own. I was constantly stuck in a cage of everyone emotions and I just wanted to tell you that. 

I regret hiding when you were angry, I regret not figuring out ways to calm you down when you were upset. I regret not paying 100% attention to the things you were extremely passionate about. I never took the time to listen to you about the things you love. I regret constantly trying to fix you when you didn’t want to be fixed. I regret being as worried as I was. Your well being was a top priority to me.. I didn’t want you going down the same path I went down before getting clean. I regret forcing you to listen to me about my side of the story and refusing to hear your side because it upset me. During the time I believed your side to be idiotic and selfish. You were trying the best you could I like to think. I regret isolating myself in the bedroom I was so used to running and hiding that I didn’t think about how you were feeling in that moment. I regret not coming into the living room to wake you up and bring you into the bedroom so your back wouldn’t hurt the next day.  I know you have regrets too but, I will never know what they are. 

Everyone says people come into your life for a reason.. I like to believe you were in my life to teach me that becoming the best version of myself was the only way I could actually help someone who wants to be fixed. Turns out, the person I needed to fix, was me. I wasn’t the best for you however, I will be the best for the next. 

There is still underlying pain, anger, sadness on the way you went about it though. I was nothing but loyal and honest to you. I was devoted to you because I loved you. Instead of telling me you simply didn’t love me anymore you decided to create a separate life, one that was without me. Falling in love with another woman behind my back even though I felt the knife pierce near my spine. To this day you still do not know that. 

As I sit here in my apartment seeing this beautiful life I created for myself by growing through the hurt, pain and anger that took half a year to find myself in a different light staying single, because the pain is still here. Every single day is progress for me. I am learning something new about myself every day. I get to learn about myself, without you.. The pain I had to bare was too intense so I decided to do something about it. I refuse to feel the way I felt that night you told me you two were dating. 

You had claimed to be dating her two weeks after our separation. I knew about the affair for much longer than two weeks after the breakup. That night that you said the words in my passenger seat “yes we are dating” I told myself that I reuse to ever feel like that for someone again. Because although you were one mentally abusive man, you were literally everything to me. To hear those words come out of your mouth was like taking the knife out of my back and placing it directly into my heart. I cried for weeks after that. You will never know the pain I had felt so deeply because you had someone “waiting” for you. 

I should be thanking you to be quite honest. Because of you I can walk differently, talk differently, feel beautiful inside and out, I finally get to smile and I actually mean it. I haven’t been this social-able in years. I glow differently, I can laugh and not be drowned by the tears I had shed in the past for you. Thank you for giving me the agonizing pain and torture of this heart break. Because now, the only person I’m good enough for at the end of the day.. Is me. 

[ice-cream-nekogirl]

Dear Agony Just let go of me Suffer slowly Is this the way it's got to be? Don't bury me Faceless enemy I'm so sorry Is this the way it's gotta be? Dear Agony

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x9hZFyoqp7Q

Amy and Shachath

The Angel of Death... I told ya’ll Amy has some weird friends XD Including supernatural beings, angels, demons, the freaking Anti-Christ and even Lilith herself... 

However, Amy is pretty chummy with Shachath as they talk often and Amy even shares a cup of tea with her at times. Which is touching, but it’s also... really sad when you think about it. But these two have a somewhat odd friendship/acquaintanceship due to being very familiar with one another and Shachath acts as something of a guardian angel for Amy, just like her daughter Mallory does. Aside from Shinsou, Shachath also understands Amy very much, noting that Amy hides her  feelings of worthlessness, sadness and pain with smiles and laughter as Shachath is almost always behind her in someway because of the pain she feels often.

And just to clarify... my good friend @ambroselaveau90 has the HC that Shachath is Mallory’s mother and I’m going with that cuz I like it~! <3 

Mallory acts as a guardian angel for Amy, and Shachath does the same because well... they’re angels! And they like her <3 

Shachath first appears to Amy during her childhood at Robichaux even after Cordelia is made the new Supreme as the girl began to feel empty and hollow after realizing that not only was she never going to see Shinsou again, but that she lost her parents, her dog, her sisters Madison, Misty and Nan, as well as her mother figures Fiona, Marie Laveau and Myrtle Snow and her good friend Luke. The losses hit her all suddenly as she suffered a mental breakdown, having witnessed so much death in so little time, which is what Shachath explained to her when she first arrived and she notes to the young girl that she was calling for her but Amy had no idea she was doing so. 

The Angel of Death then tells her that sometimes not everyone is aware that they are praying for the pain to end, and Amy confides in her that sometimes she does want the pain to end and Shachath does offer her a way to end the pain, a kiss of death. However, a fearful Amy apologizes and says that she’s not really ready for that, but Shachath is very understanding and tells her that should she ever feel anymore unbearable pain that she can always sing for her again and she’ll come to her. 

As Amy got older, Shachath still follows Amy because of the young witch’s singing as she notes that Amy tends to often sing for her. Although Shachath noted that while Amy did realize the entirety of what she lost, that she hadn’t processed it all and entered a heavy stage of denial until the Sports Festival when her Sentio Compassios was fully awakened. Only when Amy enters the anger stage of her grief is when Shachath feels compelled to go to her. As Amy realized that the pro-heroes abandoned her, she became distraught, confused, horrified, hurt and wild with rage and despair that it led her to going on a rampage on UA. An event that Shachath watched patiently, and she grew worried for the witch when Izuku got the upperhand and pinned her down. She was sympathetic when Amy confessed her feelings, only to get coldly rejected and breaking her heart.

The added pain of heartbreak put a lot of stress on Amy’s physical body, causing her to go into brief cardiac arrest as Shachath arrived and offered to give her the kiss of death to end it all. Amy was more than willing to be kissed because the pain was so great, but Shachath stops upon realizing the power within the witch, as well as the rage and contempt that kickstarted her power into regenerating her heart and kept her body from giving out. Shachath tells Amy that she wasn’t quite ready to go yet and had unfinished business to do. As instead of succumbing to despair, Amy became reinvigorated with a newfound scorn that allowed her to continue fighting Izuku and came close to killing him. Which is partially why Shachath stuck around as she wondered if it would have been Izuku who she would give the kiss of death too. 

In fact, another factor that allowed Amy to cease her attack was seeing Shachath flying beside Izuku, ready to give him the kiss since Amy came dangerously close to crushing him. Which horrified her when she realized how badly she was hurting him, and it allowed her to stop. Although it’s implied that this was a ploy by Shachath to prevent Amy from killing the boy to spare her from committing something she would regret and to save Izuku from a painful death. 

Afterwards, Shachath remained by Amy’s side as she quit UA and isolated herself in her mansion due to the anger, hatred, depression and despair she felt towards herself and her former teachers and classmates. Due to Amy’s fluctuating emotions ranging between anger, despair and mainly emotional pain, Shachath kept her company and stood by just in case Amy truly did want to end it all. Amy kept Shachath in mind and frequently spoke to her and turned to her for advice, especially when it came to forgiveness about herself, with Shachath comforting her and reassuring her each and every time, even telling her that love is painful but it only means that she is a human with a strong capacity to feel love for people. 

Although she also remained neutral about Amy’s choices, noting that whatever she chooses that Shachath will not judge her and would remain her friend no matter what she did. 

And as Amy prepares to go rescue her friends and her teacher during the War Arc, she asks the angel if she will stay with her since Amy secretly hoped that she would die during the rescue. Shachath kindly tells her that she will be by her side the entire time if she does want to die, but also gives her advice on how to beat Shigaraki.

Amy: You’ll be with me... right? I mean... Shigaraki’s really strong now... stronger than ever before... I’m not afraid. Honestly I’m not, I don’t even care if I come out of it alive or not, but... if he does manage to kill me... will you be there?

Shachath: Oh child... as long as you call for me, I will always be there. As I have said before... if you need me to. I will save you. 

In the present times, Amy and Shachath are still good friends, and while Amy has slowly gotten better overtime, Shachath still does come by every now and then due to Amy relapsing into her depression, including during her second year when she begins to doubt herself and spirals back into the verge of a breakdown. Shachath would be at her side and still give her the offer of the kiss of death, but since Amy gained more of a support system, the witch oncemore decline with Shachath being nothing  but understanding. As she was touched by Amy’s new friendships, especially her friendship with Ashlen, another person she had seen before and had been ‘sung’ for. 

However, Shachath did tell Amy that she wants to save her from her pain in the near future when death is inevitable. A sentiment that oddly touches Amy as she tells her that she wouldn’t want anyone else to steal her away from a painful death.

At one point Amy asks Shachath if she gets tired of waiting for her to make her decision, but because the Angel of Death has grown fond of Amy, she reassures her and tells her that she isn’t annoyed with her and is merely there to be a listening ear for her. A benevolent Grim Reaper, Shachath sometimes even offers advice to Amy and lets her vent about what is making her upset and listens to her without any judgement. Because Shachath gained an understanding towards Amy, she at times can also talk her out of death by reminding her of her friends and loved ones which often tends to make Amy reconsider.

However, like many a person suffering from depression, there are moments where Amy cannot see or think about her loved ones as she just wonders and contemplates suicide with Shachath almost always showing up during these moments.

I feel nothing anymore...

[ineffable-snowman]

Day 12 & 13: Carolling & Wrapping Paper

combining two prompts again to catch up

***

There were two rolls of wrapping papers in Brother Francis’s little garden hut: a silver one with little angels and a tartan one.

The two harmless objects upset Crowley so much that she stormed out of the hut without getting the woollen coat as intended (who needed a coat anyway, it wasn’t that cold, coats were for wimps, not for demons!). She stormed through the garden, kicking a bush who had dared to grow out of line (who Aziraphale had let grow out of line). Out of spite, she set fire to the fairy lights, thus effectively shutting down the whole building’s electricity. There was confused shouting from the dark mansion but that was not her problem anymore, she had the weekend off.

Time to get drunk in a bar. You see, in 2000 years Crowley had never gotten a Christmas present from Aziraphale, even though she gave one to Aziraphale most years when they were in the same area. It was alright, she understood why Aziraphale did not give her anything. Because a present would be physical proof of not only a working but also a personal relationship. She knew that Aziraphale, if he were free from Heaven, would gladly give her presents. Aziraphale liked giving presents: giving the humans his flaming sword, bestowing blessings, putting food outside for a hedgehog, giving money to a beggar… But Heaven did not always allow him to give as much as he wanted.

It used to be alright. And Crowley did get something in return: a grateful and happy smile and an invitation into the bookshop for a drink or two. It was enough, more than enough. Just – seeing the wrapping paper had thrown Crowley for a loop. Imagining Aziraphale thoughtfully selecting Christmas presents and wrapping them for some random people – for whom? Warlock, that was okay, Crowley herself had bought the little Antichrist a spooky musical box with a skeleton on top of it. But also for Mrs. Dowling and her idiot husband? Maybe for the cook and the cleaning staff, too? Humans Aziraphale had barely known for a few years? It felt stupid. Crowley felt stupid. She didn’t even like Christmas. And anything Aziraphale would give her would probably only clutter up her flat and not go with her style at all. She didn’t need soppy Christmas presents, a glass of Whiskey would do just fine. But…imagining Aziraphale carefully wrapping something for her, putting a bow on top, adding a name tag…

Well, look who was soppy now.

Next Monday, she told Mrs. Dowling that she would be fine to stay for the holidays.

“Oh really?” She looked immensely relieved. Christmas usually put humans through a lot of stress (some of which Crowley was responsible for). “I thought you wanted to go home to celebrate Christmas with…um…?”

“I don’t have family. Or anyone else to celebrate Christmas with.”

Aziraphale chose that precise moment to come into the hall. Crowley quickly looked away.

“Then you are very welcome to stay with us, of course,” said Mrs. Dowling. She then went off to work.

Aziraphale cleared his throat. “I take it you’re not coming over to the bookshop then? On Christmas, that is?”

“No time,” Crowley said.

“Well. I’m sure Warlock will be delighted to have you here with him.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“I suppose there’s really no reason for the gardener to stay for Christmas, is there?”

Crowley averted her eyes because she hated to see Aziraphale looking so sad. She realised that Aziraphale did not have anyone to celebrate Christmas with either. “It’s not like we do anything special for Christmas when we meet. I mean, we eat, drink, talk – same things we always do, right?”

“Yes, of course. Anyway. I’ll get to work.”

Crowley snorted. “Sure.” As if Aziraphale ever did any work in the garden aside from feeding the birds and talking to slugs.

***

Christmas with the Dowlings wasn’t exactly a fun affair. On the 25th they were hosting a huge dinner party but as Mr. Dowling was on an important Christmas party every day and every night, all the preparations were left to Mrs. Dowling (and in turn to the overworked staff). Warlock was keyed up because he could not wait to finally get his presents. The atmosphere could not really be described as festive. Crowley tried to teach Warlock how a clock and a calendar worked and how to tell the time so he would stop pestering everyone by asking when it was finally time to unbox his presents.

Christmas morning was still tolerable. Warlock enjoyed most of his presents (even the boring storybook wrapped in tartan paper) and only threw a minor tantrum when he did not get the right Star Wars action figure. The Dowlings gave Crowley a completely useless gift voucher for a spa treatment. Warlock also had something for her, and it was wrapped in tartan paper, making Crowley’s hands shake a little when she unwrapped it. It was a hastily drawn picture that was labelled in a familiar handwriting: it said “Warlock” next to the biggest stick figure, “Nanny” next to a slightly smaller and black stick figure, “sun” next to a yellow oval and “birds” next to a blue…well, scribble.

“Ah, very minimalist, very abstract, I like it.” Crowley tousled Warlock’s hair and swallowed down the lump in her throat. Then she carefully rolled the paper up and safely put it away.

By midday, the Dowling’s were having an argument again and the cook was close to a mental breakdown (Crowley smuggled the gift voucher for the spa treatment into her bag). Warlock stayed with Crowley when his parents were shouting in the living room, and that meant Crowley could not even get drunk on the eggnog in peace. There was a loud bang from the front door, than the crunching of the gravel as a car sped away. Warlock was trying to behead his action figure. It was ridiculous, what was Crowley even doing here? The world was about to end in a few years and she moped and Aziraphale was lonely in his bookshop and the humans argued over wrong presents and dinner parties that they did not even enjoy, and the present for Aziraphale was in the Bentley’s glove compartment.

“How do you feel about going outside?” Crowley suggested.

Warlock nodded in relief.

When they ran across Mrs. Dowling in the hall, she quickly wiped her tears away and put on a brave smile.

“Do you mind if Warlock and I head out for a bit?” Crowley asked.

“That’s a good idea, thank you, Miss Ashtoreth. What are you going to do?”

“Er, sleighing,” Crowley said the first thing that came to her mind but of course there was no snow in London, “I mean, carolling.” Or whatever it was humans usually did on Christmas.

“Oh, that sounds lovely.” Then she lowered her voice so only Crowley could hear her. “It’d probably be better if you stayed away for a bit longer until, you know, things are back under control here.”

“No problem.”

Mrs. Dowling exhaled in relief. “You really are a godsend, Miss Ashtoreth.”

Crowley winced but managed to control herself.

“What’s carolling?” Warlock asked later from the backseat of the Bentley.

“Eh, we go to some houses and sing Christmas songs very badly and only stop if they give us money or sweets.”

Warlock was all for it and they spent the drive changing the lyrics of several Christmas songs to make them more interesting.

It was fun, standing primly and serenely next to Warlock while he sang the most outrageous lyrics with his cute face. Most people were so out of their depth that they just didn’t say anything but simply gave him sweets and threw Crowley somewhat nervous looks.

When Warlock grew bored and cold, Crowley suggested they go and see Brother Francis. Aziraphale was thoroughly taken aback when they knocked on his door and Warlock was pretty confused, too.

“What happened to your eyebrows, Brother Francis?”

“Oh, I – I trimmed them. For the holiday.”

“And your teeth?”

“Hm?” Aziraphale quickly turned aside and then turned back with his large front teeth miracled back on. “Whatever do you mean, Master Warlock?”

“You look different!”

“Why don’t you come inside?”

“We must carolling first!”

“Carolling, how lovely! What are you going to sing, young Warlock?”

“Jingle hell.”

“Oh dear.”

Nevertheless, Aziraphale listened through the whole song (but sometimes winced slightly). “I believe we have to practise the lyrics a bit”, he said afterwards. “It seems like Nanny mixed up a few things.”

Warlock giggled. “I’m not stupid, Brother Francis. I know that’s not the real song. We changed it.”

“Well. Ahem. What would you say to some hot cocoa?”

Warlock was all for it, and Crowley could not believe she was spending Christmas with her hereditary enemy and the Antichrist drinking hot cocoa that did not even have alcohol in it. It was ridiculous but not nearly as ridiculous as the morning at the Dowlings’.

Aziraphale asked Warlock about his presents and the boy went on another rant about the wrong action figure he had gotten. A few minutes and a gentle lecture from Aziraphale later, Warlock gladly handed Aziraphale the action figure, who planned to give it to some poor kid who had not gotten anything for Christmas. Crowley supposed it was only fair if Aziraphale was allowed to do some influencing towards the good after she had taught Warlock rude carols, so she let Aziraphale do his angelic job now.

Then Warlock went to explore the bookshop, which had Aziraphale on edge. He hovered behind Warlock and shooed him away whenever he got too close to any of his books. “Ah, Master Warlock, these books are really not for young children. They are very old, very boring, you wouldn’t like them. I could –” he frantically looked around until he found what he was looking for “– I could read this to you.” He brandished a first edition of Winnie-the-Pooh.

It was ridiculous enough that there was no alcohol in her hot cocoa but now Crowley was even listening to Aziraphale reading Winnie-the-Pooh, enthusiastically doing all the voices.

“This is boring,” she hissed, “there isn’t even anyone dying.”

“It’s not boring,” Warlock protested. “Come on, Brother Francis, read!”

Aziraphale gave Crowley a smug smile. Crowley didn’t really mind. She just had to, you know, protest for the sake of it – like Aziraphale had to protest against rude carols.

It did not take long for Warlock to fall asleep on the couch. Crowley would have liked to stay but it was already getting late.

“Suppose we should head back,” she said softly.

“Ah, yes. His parents might worry.” Aziraphale wrapped Warlock up in a tartan blanket and Crowley picked him up. “Thank you for coming over,” Aziraphale whispered. “It was nice having you here.”

Crowley did not really know what to say to that, so she just sneered in return and hoped it did not look too nice. She had unobtrusively left the present for Aziraphale in the kitchen when she had gotten them more hot cocoa while Aziraphale had been reading to Warlock. She really wanted to stay.

“So what are you up to now?” Aziraphale asked.

“Get the little hellspawn into bed, see if there’s any decent food from the party left, tempt a few of the politicians there – the usual stuff. You?”

“I’m going to bring a few presents to the children in the neighbourhood who didn’t get anything.” Aziraphale nodded towards the huge bag with presents, to which he had added Warlock’s action figure.

“Ah. Good deeds.” Crowley tried to sneer again. She was not sure if she succeeded. She never wanted it all to end, not even Christmas, hot cocoa, Winnie-the-Pooh and Aziraphale’s good deeds. She also didn’t mind chaotic Christmas parties and rude carols but she really liked all of this, this crazy, exciting little planet and all the humans and the angel on it. “So, er, merry Christmas or whatever.”

“And happy holidays to you, too. Oh, and thank you for the present.”

So he had already noticed. Crowley could feel herself blushing. “Shut up.”

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Words Can’t Describe...

Characters: Chris Evans x Reader, minor characters

Word Count: 1,651

Warnings: just fluff, super sweet Chris, skiing injury

Summary: You and Chris are high school sweethearts. You’ve been through every up and downs there are, and right now, you need him for a really big down.

Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in! This is unbeta’d and any and all mistakes are all on me. 

This is the December 15th fic for my 25 Days of RPF Christmas and prompt: “you’re in the hospital for the holidays so i came in while you were sleeping to decorate your room i love you merry christmas”

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Chris Evans became a lot of your firsts in life: first kiss, first time you had sex, first time you slowed dance together, first date, and so many more firsts you hold dearly to your heart. He is your high school sweetheart, and everyone who knew you two knew you would be together forever. Being with someone since high school is so much more intimate than anything you’ve ever experienced. Chris knows your ups and downs, has seen you at your worst and at your best, knows what you like and what you don’t like, etc. Some might think it’s annoying to have someone who knows you so well, but it works for you two.

There isn’t a holiday you haven’t spent apart except for the summer of 2009 when he went to film The Losers that came out in April of 2010. You couldn’t spend the 4th of July with him which sucked, but he was happy doing what he loves on yet another film set. You’re so proud of what he’s accomplished and the person he’s become. He’s been through so much and has gotten you through so much in your life, you don’t think you can ever repay him.

There was one time at Thanksgiving when you were supposed to cook the meal for your entire family. Chris’ and your family were coming over to your house for the big celebration. You love hanging out with his family since they are so welcoming and inviting, but there was one small issue you forgot to mention to them when they appointed you the cook: you can’t cook.

You thought you would try it this year to prove to your family you’re more than capable of living on your own. They always did the grunt work for you, but it’s your time to do things for yourself. Chris usually does the cooking, but he’s out with his friends right now, and you don’t want to pull him away from that. He doesn’t get to see them often, so you have to pull yourself together if you’re going to cook this dinner.

Seven pots and pans, one burned ham, and several fried asparagus later, and you’re about to have a mental breakdown in the middle of your kitchen. Chris is coming home soon, yours and his family not long after that, and you’re not even close to being done. The turkey is the only thing you know how to cook since you slather on some spices and throw it in the oven. It’s the only thing you know how to not fuck up.

“Y/N, you home?” Chris asked when he entered the house. He could smell the food burning, but he knows how important this is to you so he decided not to comment on it.

“In here,” you whimpered. Chris enters and sees you in tears at the ruined food all around you. “I can’t do it. I fucked everything up, the turkey is in the oven, but I bet it’s fucked up too.”

“Hey, there is no reason to get upset. Not everyone knows how to cook,” he cooed and brought you into his arms for a reassuring hug.

“Our families are going to be here soon! What am I going to do? They expect a full feast when they get here!”

“Then that’s what they’re going to come home to. We can fix this,” he said positively. You give him a pointed look with a raised eyebrow. “Okay, I can fix this. Just clear out some of these pans and I’ll do the rest.”

“I can’t even cook a simple meal,” you sighed and started clearing out some of the dishes.

“Not everyone can. You’re good at a lot of things, just not cooking. But that’s okay because lucky for you, I love cooking. I’ll even let you help me. Don’t worry, I’ll be right here to oversee everything.”

“I love you,” you managed to smile.

“I love you too. Now, we have two hungry families coming over, so we need to get started right away.”

He saved that Thanksgiving and prevented it from becoming ruined for good. Both families arrived to a table full of food. It was a bitch to clean up, but you and Chris had fun. He’s saved your ass so many times, but you have your fair share of saving as well. Like, for instance, two years ago, Chris got pulled over for speeding and was arrested for it. Luckily this didn’t get out to any news outlet, so you were able to keep it on the down-low. He called you from the station to help him get bail, which of course, you did.

Chris looked so beaten up in the tiny holding cell he’s been sitting in for the past two hours. You were pulled from a work event to come get him, but you were glad to be pulled away. That work event was such a snooze fest. As soon as he saw you, his eyes lit up in hope you would come get him, but you could still see the shame behind that.

“Do you realize how fast he was driving?” the officer in charge told you once you greeted him. “70 in a 45. I should have him arrested for a federal offense.”

“No, please. Look, I know what he did was bad, but no one got hurt. Isn’t that the most important thing? At least he wasn’t driving on a crowded street. It was a back road, and there wasn’t a car around for miles.”

“Y/N,” the officer sighed.

“Please let him go. He’s not off the hook, believe you me. He’s sleeping on the couch tonight. Look, he won’t do it again. I’ll make sure of it,” you promised. Anyone who knows you knows that you can be stern and mean if you wanted to, which usually meant you got what you wanted.

“If I pull him over again, then I’m arresting him and he’ll have to go to court,” the officer sighs and takes out his keys.

“Yes, that’s fine. He won’t do it again. Thank you so much,” you sighed in relief. The officer let out your boyfriend with a glare, and you had to drag Chris out of the police station angrily.

“How did you get him to let me go?”

“That’s my uncle you dumbass. 70 in a 45? What the hell were you thinking?” you gritted out as both of you got into the car.

That was a tough situation to be in since you didn’t want to use the family excuse to have him let go scot-free. The good news is that Chris never sped again and has been a really good driver ever since. That, and you did most of the driving anyway. There’s a ton of other things you and Chris have gone through, but what you’re going through now has got to be the worst of the worst.

He took you skiing a few weeks ago, and you ended up hurt pretty badly. So badly, that you had to stay in the hospital for two months, which means you will be missing Christmas. It’s your favorite holiday since you have a ton of kids on your mom’s side that you love spoiling. It’s not Chris’ fault you wiped out so badly, but you’re angry with yourself that you thought you could do something you knew your body wasn’t ready for. You wanted to show off for Chris and look where you ended up.

It’s bad enough you’ll be missing Christmas with your family, but Chris got called to do some interviews and press events over the holiday. If it was any other time, he would have said no, but you made him take it since you’re going to be stuck in the hospital for a long time. You’ve been in and out of sleep for the past few weeks from the morphine they are giving you, so you’re not exactly sure who’s been coming and going, and who drops off what. What you do know is that when you went to sleep your room looked like a normal hospital room.

When you woke up, it was a whole different story.

Different colored Christmas lights hung from the ceiling, a small plastic tree with fake snow littered the top. The tree was decorated with white lights and small Christmas decorations. Christmas stickers are plastered on the windows, and a small section of the corner was covered with presents.

“What the hell?” you mumble.

“You’re up,” Chris grins from the other side of the room. It takes a few seconds for you to register that he's here, and a grin pops on your face because of it.

“You’re back. I thought you were in Florida.”

“I was, but I came back here. I hate leaving you on such an important holiday so I canceled everything that was planned to spend Christmas here with you.”

“You did that for me?” you squeak. “You did all of this for me?”

“You’re in the hospital for the holidays, so I came in while you were sleeping to decorate your room. I love you. Merry Christmas,” he smiles and plants a kiss to your smooth cheek.

“I love you so much,” you start to cry.

“No, don’t cry.”

“These are happy tears. I don’t know what I would do without you. I can’t imagine my life without you, Christopher Robert Evans.”

“Then you’re lucky I stuck around all these years, Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N,” he jokes. He sees how tired you are, so he takes a seat next to your bed and picks up a book you didn’t realize was on the table next to you. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Okay,” you whisper and let yourself fall asleep knowing you’re always going to be caught when you fall.

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[jiwonsssi]

— differences, pt. 1

Plot: You are a dancer of his team and, as The Fanfiction's Rule prescribe, you find yourself falling in love with Jiwon. You found yourself falling for every little difference he has. You are heplessly gone. Or not?

Characters: Eun Jiwon/'You'

Warnings: swearing.

A/N: Take a note, this is important part of a story: the 'you' person is under 25-26. Someone older wouldn't probably fit entirely, but since you all are here for nsfw part, there it wouldn't matter ahah

- It's not okay to be that late, right? - you hear someone sitting down right next to you, sighing harshly. Oh how you understand that sigh, - It's already been an hour. I fed up with waiting.

- Are you going to be the one who would say that to him? - you laugh, leaning backwards and the guy near you humps something under his nose, shaking his head, - Thought so.

But the thing is, he is absolutely right. You so fed up with waiting. Eun Jiwon is hella late for dance practice and if this would be his first time doing so, it would be doubtly okay. But the fourth one is getting out of hand. Yet what can you do? Complain to his manager? Complain to Jiwon himself? Being late yourselves? Throw rocks at him, in the end? Nothing's gonna work. Because if he's late, he wanted to be late. You see it in his eyes everytime he apologizes.

Eun Jiwon is not sorry at all.

Somehow you even respect him for his honesty. Man needs to have a tremendous amount of bravery, nerves and talent to be that shameless. Must be tiring, after all.

- And, what are you doing on Friday evening? Perhaps you and Sungha might visit my birthday party. No presents, just bring alcohol and something to eat. So what?

You barely know him. For real. It must one of the first times you two even have a somewhat decent conversation? He's new to the team and in general not really a bad guy (who knows though), but there is something you just don't like about him. And his offer. If he's about to invite every one that he sees, it will be a dirty mess. It's not like you are "homegirl" kind of a person, but being stuckes in a small flat with tons of drunk people in the middle of nowhere is not quite your cup of tea.

- We'll come, - your thoughts on how to say "no" in the most polite way possible were interrupted by your boyfriend, who now stands at the other side of you, leaning to the huge mirror and nodding happily.

- Then party it is, - you answer, making it obvious for Sungha that your 'happy' smile isn't happy at all and murmur 'who likes to rest after the long week anyway' under your breath.

- What did you say?

There is no time to answer the question, because your eyes met a long awaited 'main star' who tries to pretend that everything is okay and he wasn't late for an hour, bowing slightly as part of saying hello. Indeed, shameless.

- What? Let's get to work, the sooner we start, the sooner we end, - throwing rocks at him doesn't seem like a bad idea anymore; and judging by people around' expressions, not only for you.

Actually you don't mind waiting. It's not like you need to endure cold weather, rain, snow, thirst or hunger; you just.. relax. You have everything around, you can eat and drink and chat with someone; just do whatever you want. You just love complaining, probably. And you badly afraid to miss your bus, among everything. It's all fun until you will have to go to your home in the middle of the night by your own feet.

The practice goes smoothly, as it should be. The pros of working with someone who has experience and desire to actually make a performance better are undeniable. Somehow you, dancers, yourselves, cause more problems than Eun Jiwon ever did since you started to train together. Might be because he moves as he likes to; he knows every move and you see it clearly, everybody does. Yet he brought something new in the way he works it; only for himself, in his own style. Nobody does it like him and you understood it perfectly through almost two weeks of practicing together.

Apart from being surprisingly (for you) gifted in dancing, he was the same surprisingly humble sunbae. It's not like you worked with a lot, but the amount of men who caught a star with their short lasting fame you have met amazes you every time.

So overall Eun Jiwon was someone who you never imagined to be a person that he is. Quite unusual, actually.

And the most unusual part in all this is that you were particularly staring at him for, well, more than two hours and he was absolutely aware of this fact. It's not like you were ashamed or felt an urge to blush whenever you have been catching an eye contact, it's just.. weird. Everyone will find it weird; even though you didn't really mean anything. He just happened to stay in your focus while you were occupied with thoughts and work. It's not like you need this practice anyway. As many of you, actually.

The only thing you care about now is that you are terribly missing the last bus. Maybe fifteen minutes ago you had a chance, but now when it's clear that you are going to use your feet while going home in the blistering cold after almost three hours of non-stop dancing and knowing that tomorrow you will need to wake up early, your mood is absolutely destroyed. And so when the practice is announced to be over, you try your best to put on the most pure and happy smile without making your shitty mood visible.

- Would you be able to walk me home? I missed my bus and the subway is closed at my station, please, - you can't persuade your boyfriend to do everything, it's obvious. But you know that he lives near by and doesn't really need to do anything tomorrow, so.. why not try? In the sweetest voice you could ever maintain, of course.

He is nice. He really is. You date him for a reason, in the end. He's just.. the feeling is never perfect when it comes to him.

- Uhm, I.. - Sungha touches his neck, avoiding eye contact and you sigh, letting go of his arm softly, - I'm really sorry.

- It's alright, I understand. I also have a lot to do in the morning, ugh, - he hugs you, placing soft kiss on your temple and then look you deadass in the eyes while telling the most stupid bullshit he could have ever said without any sign of shame.

- Nah, I don't actually, I just promised to go with guys to celebrate some shit and it's already late. I promised, I'm sorry, love, - he smiles and you know that he means no bad. He just.. doesn't understand. It's not his or his friends or your fault; he's just like that, no one can change that except him. And you are not here to teach him manners. Especially when you want to break at least his nose.

- Ok, have fun, - you pat on his shoulder, avoiding his lips with a frown and just turn around to leave.

The same shit was popping up for the the last few weeks and those reasons why you fell in love with him; you don't really remember any of them anymore.

You didn't turn around when he called you, just straight up to the door, trying to surpass the crushing sensation in your throat. No way you will cry because of someone who doesn't care; too many honors. It's just a very bad day. Everything at once and all this.. maybe calling an expensive as hell taxi is a great idea, after all. No money can buy you new nerves.

Shoving your belongings to the tote bag, you desperately try to calm yourself down, because God knows, it's the lowest you have ever been in months. Those days when a fall of a pen can cause a mental breakdown; you hate it. Probably everyone does. It just happened to be today. Not a big deal.

There is nothing more than a comfortable ride home and sleep you are dreaming about. Not even impenetrable ignorance of Sungha bothers you. You'll deal with it tomorrow. Now - a car and a bed.

Yet life is not that simple and we are not in a fanfiction. A taxi? In the middle of the night? Huh. Nonsense. The thing is, no one wants to take an order for such a short and therefore not so profitable ride. Nice. And here you are, standing in the middle of the street in a fucking bone breaking cold waiting for at least someone to accept your order. Thanks God you are at least under a roof of YG Ent entrance. Lights and security. If not cold, you would just sleep here. You will need to come tomorrow anyway.

- Hey, why are you still here? - you hear voice of a person with whom you doubtly want to talk. Eun Jiwon. If not his lateness, you might have been in your bed already. But here he is, standing not far away from you, looking around in the weirdest way possible, - Why aren't you going home? It's late.

- I missed my bus. Subway station where I live is closed. Taxi doesn't want me. Enough? - you didn't mean to sound rude. But you are physically can't make up needed politeness right know; not now, please.

- Yeah, - he's nodding, turning around to leave and, to be extremely honest, now it's pretty much impossible to suppress tears. His back when he has moved in the direction of parking is too much. But what can he do? He's, again, not guilty in not meeting your expectations. Thanks for asking, at least.

And you will not cry now. In your bed, alone - maybe; most probably. But here - no way.

You look at the screen of smartphone again to find absolute nothing. By feet then.

- It's not that far anyways, - you sigh, adjusting your bag on a shoulder when you see a car stopping in a distance and.. it's creepy. You are not a panicking type, but now situation smells like shit and if someone would try to pack you in their trunk, most probably, they would succeed. Even with YG's security. Even with cameras. And lightning everywhere. Not a panicking type, yeah.

But while you were occupied with thoughts on how you should attack them, you missed Eun Jiwon standing in front of the car. You notice him when he starts to speak and it's the third time you want to cry today; just the emotions right now are completely different.

- You are stuck here because of me. And I feel bad for sleeping too much, - Jiwon smiles, pursuing his lips a little and somehow you can't be angry with him. He's honest, it's written on his face, - So I want to ask you if it's okay if I drive you home? As an apology.

And now you see some parallels you never wanted to see. Because your beloved boyfriend is somewhere out there chilling with 'guys' and someone, who's not even slightly responsible for you, is here.

He knows what he did wrong; and Jiwon doesn't slip an empty 'sorry' into nowhere. He apologizes while thinking about what he actually did wrong and how to change that. Such a rare trait to witness.

- I don't think that it's..

- If I didn't want to do it, I wouldn't ask, - even in his smile, you see that he's serious about it. It's hard to say 'no' right now. For many reasons.

- Okay then, - it's not like you want to decline a Mercedes ride either, let's be honest. He nods, opening the door for you and muttering small 'thank you', you hop inside, holding your breath for no apparent reason.

It's not like it was your first time sitting in this type of car costs like your approximately two year's allowance, it's just a bit...weird. Yet so extremely comfortable.

Jiwon is quick to seat beside you, driving away quickly. He puts on the heater immediately and you feel your face melting. You might as well fall in love with this car.

- Drop me your address, - you are still pressing your bag to your chest trying to relax when you hear him and you proceed what he means for a moment. What a fucked up day, you feel like a fool all of a sudden and it's not even weird at this point.

- I don't have your number, - now he's feeling himself like a fool and you laugh, glancing at his expression. He manages to look mature and hilarious at the same time. Mocking his fakely irritated 'write it then', you sign his contact as 'Eun Jiwon' and it feels.. interesting.

You send him a location of your home and then watch as he puts it into GPS, clearly not having an idea where is it.

- Does it happen often? - just the moment you manage to relax, Jiwon pushes you out of your wondering of how good it smells without cheap leather odor and disgusting sweet car condition aroma. You think for a minute then nod slowly, because it actually does.

- Not so often, but still, - you steal a glance at him again. It's not like you can stare at anyone with your boyfriend still being your boyfriend, but today is a mess. And Jiwon is certainly a nice sight to look at, - I can go on my own, but I'm tired today. Plus it's hard to grab a taxi from there, plus, - you emphasize it, watching how sights outside the window are a lot more familiar now, - Hella expensive. I don't even know why. They think I shit with money if I am taking a cab from YG? Fucking nonsense.

Jiwon laughs through all your ted talk and it's so contagious, suddenly. You lean on a seat, laughing as well, feeling your cheeks ache a little. Funny how it's light around all of a sudden. Perhaps it's because you feel yourself so distant from all that stress that got into you today? Because Jiwon was able to come and just sort it out without asking. Well, he can't fix Sungha, but the more you think about it, the more you realise that there is nothing to be fixed. Nothing you are able to fix, probably.

So, apparently, Jiwon helped you even there.

- It's not that funny, actually, - you look at him again and you meet his eyes suddenly. You don't even want to say 'watch the road', because for no reasons you are able to trust him with your life and overall you value the fact that he is looking at you more than the fact that you can die. He was holding a gaze for a second and you already imagined imaginations. Sungha, boyfriend, still alive. Stop.

- You were hilarious though, like, - he's silent for a second while he looks for a place to park, - Like Lucy. She also gets furious randomly and sounds exactly like you did.

- You just compared me to your girlfriend? She wouldn't like that, - you laugh because it's really funny. Yet no one was ever sure if he's single or not. You never expected finding out in this circumstances.

- What? No, - he laughs louder, hiding his teeth with his palm and looks at you for a few seconds with those shiny eyes, giggling like a teenager and you can't see a forty years old man in him anymore, - She's my dog.

Did he just boldly compared you to his dog?

Forty years old man, yeah.

You inhale deeply, trying to surpass a laugh and poke a finger at him, silently making your point. Jiwon makes the cutest 'what are you going to do to me, huh?' face, pursing his lips like a five year old boy and.. And you really try your best to keep 'I'll end you' look on your face (Spoiler: you failed). Anyhow, you want to forgive him for this comparison simply because he wasn't sulky about you being totally impolite with him. No fragile masculinity detected.

- This changes everything! - you turn around, opening the door because he literally had just parked and you leave, making sure he understands that you are kidding with this fake offense little perfomance and that he's smiling, when you turned around to wave him before entering the building.

The thing is, when you come home, you are not tired anymore. By any means; if not your mother sleeping peacefully you would probably be loud and hyperactive. And since you need to cosplay a ninja right now, you just lay on your bed, watching the ceiling silently. Perfect ending for a fucked up day.

You hear your phone buzzing and what you didn't expect to see is a message from Jiwon. The day couldn't be any more perfect, but it managed.

You open a short video of little and immensely cute white dog tiny barking at watches that lay on a sofa, buzzing. You even replay it, to seek for the point when he sends another text.

'she got angry with them because they were making sounds'

- Guess it shouldn't have any meaning, right? - you tap a replay with short but excited: 'she's cute!!' and feel your throat clenching suddenly at his instant reply.

'that's why I told that you are just like her'

You are not going to say that you feel like a teenager from some manga slowly falling in love with the main character but that's exactly how you feel.

After adjusting your breathing to normal again, you choose to ignore that (to not to show how fucking excited his subtle complement made you) and text him how thankful you are for his ride and wish him and his furiously cute Lucy a good night. And after some other preparations, you, again, choosing to ignore your actual boyfriend who's trying to call and text you for a good hour already.

You will need to work with him for a month. It's not going to end well.

[kenzierose53]

Promises (xi)

The more memories I get back the less worthy I feel for Orpheus. He is such an amazing human and I am just me. I was nothing special. I don't know why he chose me, why he continued to choose me. Persephone has really been working to try to make sure that I continue to keep an open mind about things but it's so hard when all I see are the mistakes that I made.

"Remember, I said that this wasn't going to be easy," she whispered as she held me. I had just woken up from a dream where he went out to get me medicine because I was really ill. He also made me soup and took care of me all day. It was super sweet and just showed me how great he was. By this time in my memories, Hades had come to take Persephone and the world around us was wilting away fast. "From what you have told me about where you are," she paused looking at me cautiously, "I fear tonight's dream might be quite hard to take in."

I couldn't bring myself to speak, instead, I just nodded my head sadly. I don't know what I am going to be seeing if she was worried about it. For the past few weeks, she has been super optimistic and excited for me to go to sleep but today seems different. We had headed back to my place quite a while ago but she has been stalling leaving. Her hesitation to leave caused my anxiety to spike and that caused my breakdown. She's been trying to comfort me but has been failing. "I'm scared," my voice was small, shaky.

"And you have every right to be dear," her words were slightly comforting. "What you are going through is a scary experience."

I suddenly felt shameful for being so upset the past few days. Persephone has been doing me the world's biggest favor and I am repaying her by crying over everything. From what I have seen in my past I wasn't someone to get so upset so easily. Who am I now? "I'm sorry."

She shook her head looking at me confused, "Why are you sorry? You haven't done anything wrong." She shot me a smile which put me at ease a bit.

Looking down in shame I said, "For getting upset over everything. You knew me and I never used to be this way. I don't know who I am anymore. I'm weak."

She put a finger under my chin forcing me to look up. "First off never apologize for having feelings. You can't control the way you feel and you should never feel bad about that. Having feelings make you human, it makes you real." She wrapped me into a hug, it was comforting. Slowly I was starting to calm down. "You're not weak Eurydice, you never will be. You're one of the strongest people I know. You have been through so much and you are getting so many memories back all at once, it's a lot to take it. You are experiencing so many emotions at one it's overwhelming. When things calm back down you will see that. You're never gonna go back to who you used to be fully. You're gonna come back stronger with a different outlook on life."

Her words were so convincing I felt hope blooming in my chest. I felt this rush of strength come through me. I could do this. I am going to be a better person after that. I am going to be better for him. "I can do this!" She just smiled brightly at me and tapped her finger on my nose. "I think I am ready to tackle tonight's memory. No matter how tough it is I know I am stronger now." She just wrapped me into a tight hug and bid me good luck.

I went and prepared the tea as I hummed the song my poet used to sing. He was the perfect human being truly. I can't wait until I can go home and be wrapped in his arms again. I want to hear him call me beautiful, caress me, and just love me all over again. Everything about him keeps me going. I hope everything with him is going okay up top. I know Persephone told me at the beginning that he wasn't doing too well but she said when she left that he was doing better. I worry for him though. He has such a big heart; I can only imagine what my absence is doing to him.

Orpheus and I were at work. I couldn't be more grateful for Hermes allowing me to work here at the bar. At first, I was really worried he wouldn't allow me to. When I first met him I was terrified of him honestly. He was so full of wisdom and knowledge that I thought I was too inferior to be in his presence. Since I have been with Orpheus, Hermes has become a sort of father figure to me. I could always trust him to give me counsel when I need.

Orpheus has been cleaning tables as I tended the bar. We would always find times to sneak glances at each other. He makes me beyond happy. I hadn't realized that I dazed out until I felt arms wrap around my midsection. He placed a kiss on my cheek and whispered in my ear, "Let's go upstairs."

Looking around I saw that the bar was empty and the lights had been turned off. Nodding my head, I let him lead me upstairs. "Did we close early?" Normally we wouldn't be off for a few more hours but we are done now. Looking out the window I saw dark clouds rolling in.

Orpheus explained that there was a storm rolling in so Hermes decided to close early. I told him that I would prepare us something to eat and he said he was gonna work on the song while he waited. Walking into the kitchen I saw that we were running super low on food. I barely had enough to whip up something small while I listened to him sing. The food we had was only enough for one plate. I should give it to him, he's working so hard to fix things. I brought him the plate and kissed him on the cheek. "Did you already eat? I thought we were going to eat together."

Oh, shoot. I don't eat a lot because he deserves more of our food. He gets suspicions when I only bring him a plate. Normally I am really good at saying that I already ate but for some reason right now it seemed too hard to lie. "Yeah," I rushed out. Before he could respond I cut him off, "I need to run to the market to get us more food. If there is a storm coming on we need to be prepared."

He raised an eyebrow at me as if he knew that I was lying. "Do you want me to go with you?" I just shook my head at him and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me back to him. "You're not leaving without giving me a proper kiss." Smiling at the poet I grabbed his face and gave him a proper kiss. I pulled away and he rested his forehead on mine, "Be careful." His voice was quiet.

I grabbed my coat and waved goodbye to Orpheus. He gave me his award-winning smile before saying goodbye. The wind outside was bitter. It cut through the ratty coat I had like it was nothing. The clouds above were getting darker and darker with each step I took. My body was starting to feel weak but I know I have to keep pushing. Orpheus is depending on me to bring home food.

I had just finished at the market when the snow began to fall. It was falling in heavy blankets making it difficult to see. The wind had picked up making it even colder. It felt like my coat wasn't even on. The lack of food was making me feel like I could pass out at any minute. The only thing keeping me going was the image of my Orpheus.

Suddenly I felt that someone was tugging at my backpack. Behind me, one of the Fates had pulled my backpack away. I yanked it away from her. "Give that back!" She just shot me a sinister smile. I turned to continue going but another Fate ripped the bag right out of my hands. "It's everything we have!" They just laughed at me.

The storm around me had gotten worse. I couldn't see anything anymore the snow was blowing so badly. My sense of direction was gone. I was lost. The fates started pulling at my jacket. "Orpheus!" I screamed out for my poet. I have no clue where I am but I hope he can hear me. They were successful in ripping off my coat and they retreated to the shadows. I screamed his name again but there was nothing.

My body collapsed onto the freezing ground. I was too weak. I wasn't gonna make it home. Orpheus please find me. "Hey, little songbird," a deep voice said from behind me. Turning I saw an older gentleman in a dark suit and dark glasses. He asked me to sing him a song and while I was beyond weak I wanted to do nothing more than do what he asked.

I clutched my flower in my hand as this man offered me a choice. He was offering me food, shelter but it came at a price. Orpheus hasn't found me; he won't find me. This man instilled so many fears about my future with Orpheus that the offer was becoming more and more enticing. He held out two coins, "What is it?" I slowly approached the coins, their shine calling to me.

"Your ticket," he said with a smirk. The coins were dropped into my hand and he disappeared. Was I really considering leaving behind the poet? I don't want to but maybe it's for the better. I am only taking away resources from Orpheus. He'll be better off without me, right?

My stomach grumbled loudly. Hades is offering me food, warmth and right now that sound like a dream Out here in this snowstorm with no food in my stomach, do I have a choice? I started to cry when I realized that I only had once choice. The path to the train station became clear to me in the storm.

"Orpheus, my heart is yours, always was and will be," I mumbled on my way to the platform. Part of me prayed he heard me and is coming to stop me. "Oh my heart it aches to stay but the flesh will have its way. Oh, the way is dark and long. I'm already gone." Hermes stood on the platform with sad eyes. I felt ashamed to be handing him the chips. He just gave me a sad smile and directed me to the train. "I'm gone," I whispered one last time before the doors started to shut. I threw Hermes my flower hoping he gave it to Orpheus.

I'm sorry Orpheus.

[pumpkinsandsuckers]

The knot unravels

Chapter 6 of A Knight’s Prophecy Read the previous chapter Read from the start Summary: The aftermath of Chapter 5 AN: Yes I  know, I disappeared for a long time. My apologies. I’m back for now. AKP mainstory chapter 5???? Pls save me from the nothing i’ve become ((WAKE ME UP)) Warning: death, attempted rape

Maki’s eyes were puffy, slightly, and she looked as though she had not slept.“I’m fine.” 

Eli mustered the strength in her traitorous feet, and tried to smile despite her worry. 

“Where’s…. where’s Nozomi?”

The brilliant sunlight burst through the few gaps in the room, and Eli muffled a tired moan, trying to bury her face under the pillows.

She had good reason to, after all.

She lost control of herself, once again, even though she promised not to. And - and she did not know if anyone had gotten hurt. Nico, Maki, Nozomi - 

Nozomi! She spun around, the bed creaking as she frantically groped around for her lover. 

No, no, was she -  was she gone this time?

Eli shook her head, clutching at her hair painfully. 

What did she do?

What exactly had she done last night? It was all a blur - Nico and her were talking, she said something, and they flared up. Something - 

Eli winced as a spike of pain stabbed her brain.

Something?

She couldn’t remember. Was it her sister? Was Nico actually angry because their families were brought up in that attempted conversation? Understandable, since they had both lost their families.

“Why?” Eli gasped, still unable to comprehend Nico’s rage from the day before.

“Nozomi.” She muttered, and staggered out of her bed. She hurt, as she always did when she overexerted herself. Her muscles were stiff, but she convinced her leg to move bit by bit towards the stairs leading to the main room.

She had to find Nozomi. Was Nozomi even here anymore? 

“She has to be.” Eli mumbled, and her left foot moved too quickly, throwing her off her balance. Eli didn’t even manage to close her eyes and brace for the impact of her body slamming into the stone steps.

“Whoa.”

Lucky for her, she didn’t have to. Surprisingly strong arms had prevented her from taking a dreadful tumble down, and she looked up as Maki hoisted her upright. That girl looked delicate, but she had been a knight after all. Eli was pretty sure that if she had a fight with Maki, sans her rage-fueled strength, it would be hard to have a clear victor.

“You okay?”

Maki’s eyes were puffy, slightly, and she looked as though she had not slept.

“I’m fine.” Eli mustered the strength in her traitorous feet, and tried to smile despite her worry. “Where’s…. where’s Nozomi?”

Maki tried to force her eyes open, and patted Eli’s shoulder twice. 

“She’s in the kitchen, washing up. She had expected both you and Nico-chan to wake up past noon, but apparently she was wrong. I’m going to check on Nico-chan.”

Maki patted Eli’s shoulder again, and Eli found her feet eagerly plodding down to the kitchen.

“Nozomi!”

“Ah, Elicchi!”

In their haste, their toes and foreheads greeted each other, and Eli couldn’t help but laugh and cry with sheer relief that Nozomi was here. Not a hallucination. She was alive and well, and not dead from yesterday’s…... rampage.

“Elicchi, are you alright?” 

Nozomi bent down, and swept Eli’s bangs aside to check her forehead. Long slender fingers reached for Nozomi’s face.

“I am. I’m always alright with you.”

Nico was already out of last night’s clothes - she had shuddered before tossing them into the shared wash basket. She stretched and winced as her lower back ached, the same sore spot digging and knotting her muscles, scraping her bone - and all of a sudden, the pain was gone.

It was something she had grown used to.

The door opened, and Maki entered.

Right. Maki was a new addition, and this was the first time Nico had to deal with her. When it was just Nozomi, Eli, and Nico herself, such fights would be quietly buried, and everyone would give each other space. Sometimes, no words would be said, just quiet acknowledgement that grew less tense with each passing day.

But Maki had entered.

And so Nico braced herself.

Maki said nothing, not a word, and Nico was both relieved and worried until she noticed the dark hues of red on Maki’s face. Oh.

Right.

Her clothes.

It was Nico’s turn to sport that same shade of red, as she frantically put on her top.

“I didn’t see anything.” Maki mumbled, although it was an obvious lie.

Nico did remember Maki’s very enticing purple eyes staring at her -  Well, Maki was staring at some part of her.

“Of course you did not.” Nico replied, and turned around, fully dressed this time round.

“Slept well?” Maki smiled, tiredly, Nico noted.

Nico nodded. It wasn’t a complete lie. She never slept well after those attacks, but this time…

“I’m sorry. I lost control of myself - Nozomi said it happens from time to time.” Nico bit her lower lip. “I really am sorry.”

“I know.” Maki simply replied, and reached for Nico without hesitation. “I know.”

Recovering wasn’t a fast process. Maki knew that. It took time, it took support, it took patience, and hope. And if Nico didn’t have them, she would.

Healing was always easier with company.

Two weeks had passed since Nico’s breakdown, and Maki had managed to garner a few answers from everyone. Apparently, Nico and Eli could not really get along, and it was more than their personalities. Nozomi refused to say more, and Eli had shrugged, saying that Nico had lost her family, so everytime the topic of family was brought up seriously, it would trigger the black haired girl.

Nico refused to reveal much about herself, and admitted that she wasn’t sure how she became a dragon shifter. It was one day when she suddenly sprouted wings, terrified and unable to control them. Her parents had rushed into the woods with her, trying to calm her down. As such, the whole family moved into the woods, where no one else resided. And that was it. That was all Nico had to share.

Eli shared that she was from a foreign land - Galanthus - which was covered in a sheet of ice and snow. She had made friends with one of Nozomi’s knights, who would also act as messenger for the two princesses. They had met more through letters, but there was a bond, a special chain that tied the two princesses together. As Eli spoke, her face shined with a childlike excitement. It died when Eli mentioned Nozomi sending chocolates, and she excused herself.

That conversation was never continued.

And so that left Nozomi. 

When Nozomi prepared her trip for supplies once again, Maki seized the opportunity to accompany her. Nico’s eyes had narrowed, but a brief peck to the cheek from Maki calmed her down immediately. It was their thing now, yet none of them spoke about feelings. It wasn’t time for that. Nozomi and Eli would look on endearingly whenever a small moment like that happened. 

“We’ll be back in 4 days. There’s no one to visit there anyway.” Nozomi promised, and looked at Eli. “I trust the both of you will behave?”

Eli shrugged, and Nozomi frowned. 

“Elicchi….”

“Yes, we’ll behave!” 

“Same thing, Nico-chan.”

Nico grumbled but nodded. “No promises about flying about though.”

Nozomi had expected Maki to ask her about her past. Her cards had already warned her. But her cards had also told her that it was time to reveal it.

After all, it was just her past, and not Eli’s, or Nico’s. At least that was something she deserved control over.

“What do you want to know, Maki?”

“Everything.”

“Well, when I was a young girl, my father went on a trip to Galanthus, and told me there was a princess there. She was my age, and we managed to find many similar interests, although fighting was definitely not one of them. He encouraged me to write to her, and we passed our letters back and forth. The change in handwriting is still something to marvel about. It was not a secret that both Elicchi and I were infatuated with each other. I found out that she was incredibly strong, something she attributes to her genetics. And she’s also terrified of the dark.”

Maki smirked at that information.

“This beautiful friendship between Elicchi and I was so well known to the extent that my knight, Umi, had to become our messenger. It wasn’t just letters, I made her deliver gifts as well. It turns out that Umi and Elicchi became quite good friends too. And what a godsend Umi was! She smuggled top quality beef back from Galanthus, although Elicchi insists it was a gift and not a contraband item. That was delicious.”

Nozomi licked her lips and continued.

“Then I decided to make chocolates for Elicchi one day. I made sure to flirt quite openly in the letter, and Umi told me Elicchi’s reaction was amusing. So I decided to make her some for Valentine’s.” 

Maki had expected Nozomi to giggle, but the older girl frowned.

“I sent Umi there one last time. My chocolates reached, but I never heard from Elicchi after that.”

Maki patiently waited for Nozomi to continue.

“Shortly after Valentine’s, before I could compose my next letter, the castle of Galanthus was attacked. The princesses went missing, and were presumed dead. The kingdom fell into disarray, and from what I heard, enemies swarmed the castle, looting and killing until there was nothing left.”

Maki bit her lip now, her fingers tapping against her trousers.

“Of course, I rushed there, with Umi right by my side. By the time we reached, it was all over. I climbed up stairs with no walls, and sank down onto the floor when I realised that Elicchi wasn’t there. I can’t remember what happened, but I cried and cried, and I wished so badly that I could meet her, that I could have stopped the attack somehow.”

Nozomi laughed, and picked a flower from the road, twining it around her finger.

“I even did a card reading. The moment I put the last card down, I felt a burning sensation, a jolt running through my entire body, and i could feel and hear only my heartbeat. Umi was concerned and reached out to hold me before I fell. I was just dizzy, and got up rather soon.”

Maki started tapping her fingers faster.“

After that, we got intel. Elicchi wasn’t dead; she was abducted by a dragon. The few locals and guards who survived told us so. That was good enough for me, although I was rather concerned as to what a dragon would do with Elicchi.”

Maki wondered if this dragon was a certain dragon she knew. 

“After I returned to Syringa, my home, I planned a trip around the different kingdoms in a bid to find Elicchi. No one knew of it, not even Umi. But of course, I was foolish, and the first time I journeyed out, I was still dressed like how I normally would. Basically, my outfit screamed “princess”. It was sudden - someone lunged at me and I was knocked down from my horse before he galloped off. I was scared, so scared, and I didn’t want to die like that, not before meeting Elicchi.”

Maki held her breath, expecting the worst.

“He tried to have his way with me, but I fought back, and that was when he decided to take out his dagger. Straight to the throat. It really hurt, and it wasn’t a fast one, since he was drunk and clumsy.”

Maki raised her hand, biting her knuckle. She was glad Nozomi was walking in front of her.

“It was just darkness, but then I blinked and found myself back in Galanthus, wobbling to one side and Umi catching me. I thought it was a dream, and I am very sure Umi was very concerned for my neck that day, since I kept touching it. I don’t know how it happened, a miracle, maybe. But I saw it as my second chance.”

“I tried again, but this time, I dressed more humbly. Unfortunately, in my haste, I picked the fastest route and was assaulted by bandits. Woke up in Galanthus again. I tried again and again, and I remember having to give up my horse at one point since he was the one causing my death  - a tumble down a cliff. So I saved both him and I. And from there I slowly made my way around, trying to find out rumours about a dragon. Then I found out that the Dragon had been challenging people to rescue the princess. That narrowed the search down for me. A few mishaps along the way, but things got easier the more I died. I already knew the information from the locals, so I spent less time talking, and more time walking.”

Nozomi stopped to catch her breath. She turned around the face Maki.

“And I finally met them.”

“How was it like?” Maki managed to ask despite the swirling pain and fear in her head.

“Elicchi was dead.”

This time Maki could not stifle her gasp.

“She was dead, and I realised that I had to move faster, talk less. So I talked to the Dragon first, got all the information I needed, and asked the Dragon to pierce my heart. It’s the least painful way for me.”

Maki bit her knuckle hard enough to draw blood.

“So I tried again, and again, and each time, I would wake up at different places, nearer and nearer to my destination. It was a sign that things were working out well. A sign that I was fast enough. And well, here we are. It was a long journey, but it was worth it.”

Maki looked at Nozomi’s smile, one that was practised and plastered on. Her eyes were tired but shining. Maybe it really was worth it.

‘How many times? How are you even sane? Why?’ 

“Was… was the Dragon Nico-chan?” Maki clenched her fists.

Nozomi looked at Maki, apologising with her gaze. “Yes.”

“So Nico-chan has killed.” Maki whispered.

Nozomi did not say anything.

And their sounds of their shoes pressing into the dirt accompanied them for the rest of the journey.

[venacoeurva]

Aftermath, Chapter 10: A Familiar Coldness

You can read this on AO3 here.

If you are new to this fic, you can start from chapter 1 here. And PLEASE read the tags and the notes at the start of each chapter for content warnings, I am not responsible for your mental health, you are.

This chapter is rated: T (mostly for language)

Terra considers the main personal topics of the month, Isa is angry and kind of a mess(again), Lea is disappointed in Isa (again), and night lights are an important part to a home. This isn't a very action-packed chapter, mostly fleshing out a pathway to future events and to get some of Terra's perspective and concerns before more Isa perspective-centric chapters.

No trigger warnings for this one unless you don't like someone having a panic attack, otherwise it's fairly mild.

            The clouds began to cover the world in a blanket of snow, sky a dark gray and quiet as everyone went to their homes.

           There were a few persistent things on Terra’s mind as he power-walked back home, them being what Xemnas was up to, was Vanitas acclimating to not having to fight all the time, and if Isa was fine with being called Isa now or if he was just running with it because everyone called him that. It seemed like he’d ask at least him and Lea to call him something else if he wasn’t for being called that, though. He’d have to ask.

           Vanitas was still very much a work in progress, as much as any teenager who was originally existing only to become a weapon and was beaten in combat every day. The pain he felt with every Unversed’s demise only made it harder on him. He still mostly avoided everyone sans Ventus, who he was very clingy toward despite proclaiming how annoying he was. His days still comprised of trailing warily after Ven while holding on to some article of clothing which was usually a sleeve or wristband, being angry, and having panic attacks before going to his room for hours. He was very sensitive to being seen crying. So yeah, he had a while and needed to work on a lot to even be remotely functional.

           If he was mature enough and comfortable, he could sit down with Isa and discuss their abusive upbringings and find solidarity, but Vanitas definitely wasn’t at the point of discussing that. It wasn’t like Isa was open to just telling anyone about his childhood, either; he’d probably just shut off his feelings again and Saïx-mode would activate.

           Speaking of, Saïx mode hadn’t been seen in quite a while. Maybe he was coping with emotions better now, or just better at suppressing them to the point where it wasn't like there was an on-off switch on him.

           And then there was Xemnas. It also wasn’t hard to tell he did not like Xemnas—he represented the darkest point of Terra’s existence. He was his own body moving and doing without much of his input, and now he was basically a copy of him with a different personality that budded within his body prior! Xemnas was a walking effigy of trauma for him.

           Now, he could sympathize with Isa as to why he was apparently somewhat fond of him, though. What he did not understand was how those feelings coexisted so easily with his plans to casually murder him. Saïx was an enigma, and he would use the useful and discard the impractical if the situation called for it—that was about the best reasoning he could come up with. Also, abandonment issues and patricide.

           As time went on, more memories from his time as Xemnas and Xemnas as a separate entity came back to him, and the more he began to comprehend their interactions as well as the thoughts and feelings of the people within his body at the time. He could see the branching off as their heart recovered and Xemnas gained his own sense of self. It seemed only natural for him to do so while his heart formed even if he was going to be strong-armed as a vessel if he didn’t want to comply. Whether he was reluctant or not was debatable, but he has his own motives outside of that whole issue.

           Some information was helpful socially, like he remembered that Isa couldn’t lay on his stomach and feel something on his back or else he’d panic and get violent and he had always hated people touching him before he could see them. In retrospect, that made a lot of sense why when he was affectionate he’d be consistently looking at whoever the recipient was or initiated it himself. Prior to remembering this, Terra wasn’t sure if Isa disliked the latter purely because of his jumpiness after moving into the apartment—partially because of what he went through and because his mental breakdown put him in a pretty bad place. That was an easy assumption to make, to be fair.

           Other things he could recall were that Braig was very picky with what brushes he could use to tame his hair (no wonder it always looked so silky and free of snarls), Lea would drink basically anything caffeinated but really liked macchiatos and energy drinks that should probably be banned and he was double-jointed, and Vexen could reach incredibly high octaves if you scared him badly enough. The man could be an opera singer or could join a choir.

           Regardless, it would be so strange to see Xemnas separate from him, to see someone who was basically an exact clone going about completely independently from him and Xehanort. This wasn’t to say Terra anticipated seeing him; he would greatly prefer he instead melt back into nothingness and everyone could just move on like before he made his not-so-grand return. It wasn’t like he could state this out loud, as it was fairly harsh, but he knew that sentiment could be read from him enough already. Maybe that’s why Isa felt so distant on a personal level; he didn’t feel like he could talk about any of it with him, now. Too much bias and Isa got a sense that discussing him was basically taboo. That kind of hurt.

           He knew Isa was in a strange place emotionally, he was showing signs of slipping into a depressive episode again, and he remembered now that Xemnas…well. He knew Isa couldn’t know that—not now. It wasn’t even his place to say it, it was Xemnas’, but he felt responsible in keeping it from him as long as he could if he didn’t already know. There was no benefit for anyone, it would just cause more problems.

           He had to wonder if that would bite him in the ass later.

           The fluffy snow bounced off him as he continued on and wished the climate was a bit more tropical or arid. At least a hot shower would feel wondrous. Then he’d make dinner after that—it was his turn—and take a nice nap.

           He unlocked the door and stepped in, slipping his shoes off by the mat. He heard Lea in the kitchen, voice low. Freezing where he stood, he listened in.

           “…I mean, I’m glad you’re doing better but I don’t think you should act like here is the perfect place to cap your recovery off.” Lea sighed.

           “How am I doing that?” Isa asked, irritated, “And do you even know what the full extent of what I need to recover from is?”

           “Just—why? You were doing so well and getting used to people and all that then you start cutting other people off again!”

           “Any improvement from being an antisocial hermit seems like a big one, Lea. It’s plateauing right now since I can function for the most part but I still have incredibly low energy and my depressive symptoms aren’t as manageable knowing I can feel. There’s a burnout in improvement once it’s survivable, and mine happens to be a long but not intense one.”

           Isa sighed and continued. “Just because there’s still feelings, too, it doesn’t mean I’m going ahead with it. There’s no guaranteed chance of that. It’s not like he’s the only one, either, and you know that. We simply grew up too much for our relationship to stay romantic and functional, so can you stop blaming this for the reason why I’m not dating you again?”

           “How am I using that as an excuse?” Lea sputtered. “I mean, duh, I’m a bit salty he’s an option for you and not me, but that’s not…”

           “Why can’t we hold a conversation without this happening?” Isa hissed, half at Lea and half at himself. “Why do you come over like you’re not going to let your jealousy turn into an argument?”

           “It’s not jealousy! I’m just worried because, y’know, maybe developing feelings for your former superior who is also kind of nuts is a bad thing.”

           “You have some gall to act innocent when you’re part of the reason that’s even an issue now.”

           Lea growled, "Seriously?"

           Isa stood up, hands slamming hard on the table. “It was your idea to go into that castle, dumbass! And then after that horror show and we were proper traumatized, you just decide to fuck off and abandon me!”

           “Your interests weren’t for the better good, by that point, and they weren’t just about getting out! You were emotionally torturing these kids because you saw them as weapons and the fact I was friends with them when we thought we couldn't feel anything. And—and don’t act like I never went back for you! I care about you, but not enough to jeopardize other people I care about.” Lea snarled.

           “Well too bad you didn’t stay and we would have gotten the job done before any of that would have happened!” Isa roared, a familiar vibration in his voice that signaled that maybe it was time to step in.

           Terra loudly closed the door and could hear them turn in their seats.

           “Just me.” He called.

           “Ah, hey, dude.” Lea grunted as he casually got out of his seat and walked into the living room, attempting to make his expression as relaxed as possible.

           Isa didn’t follow and could be heard sipping something out of a mug with the intensity of a thousand suns.

           “Sorry for not being able to catch up with ya, I have places to be.” Lea stated and slipped past Terra.

           “Are you sure…?” Terra quietly muttered as he watched him close the door behind him.

           He walked into the kitchen to see Isa sat at the table with a rather peeved expression and clenched fists.

           Folding his arms, he gave him a sympathetic smile. “I, uh, walk in on something? There was yelling.”

           “He’s got the wrong idea, and I wish he’d stop being caught up in the fact I’m not attracted to him anymore. Just because I don’t want to date him doesn’t mean I don’t care about him. That, and he shouldn't get to act like he never caused me pain just because he came back and because I did things wrong, too.”

           “It can take a while to process being rejected, especially if it’s someone you used to date and thought you had a chance with again. Plus, a lot has happened with you two--sort of, uh, hurting each other.”

           Isa rubbed his temples, shaking his head.

           “I can see why you’re kind of reluctant to have him over if that happens every time.” Terra added and went to get a glass of milk.

           “He clings to the past too much, and I think he’s jealous but won’t admit it flat-out.”

           “I’m sure that’s part of it. He’ll get over it and be bearable to talk to…probably. I think he expected you two to go back to being on really good terms when, well, too much changed and he got out of the pessimistic mindset from earlier and ended up with some hope.”

           Isa groaned and sank in his chair, taking another drink.

           “He acts like I was the one who abandoned him first.”

           “Give him time to cool down and probably a mediator.” Terra reassured, turning to him. “What are you hungry for?”

           “I have no real preference. I think I’m going to nap this off. I’m getting a migraine.” Isa uttered.

           Terra watched him aggressively shuffle to the couch and lay down. He turned back to the counter and looked over his options. They had a nice new rice cooker, so they could at least have rice to put something on. Maybe stir-fry? No, he wasn’t going to attempt that. He could just bake some potatoes; those kept well for a few hours after being made.

           Tying his hair back, he shuffled to the pantry and pulled a few big potatoes out.

           How and why did one of the major issues right now end up being relationship drama? He should be thankful for that, but still, why? hopefully that would resolve soon.

           “It’s getting pretty dark out.” Isa groggily stated, looking up from his place on the couch and out the big window above it. “I think that snow storm is coming in.”

           “At least the weather can decide what it wants to do. By the way, some baked potatoes are in the oven when you want them.” Terra said as he walked by with a laundry basket of his clothes to put away.

           “For a few days.”

           Terra resumed, walking into the bedroom and sliding open the drawers on his side of the dresser. He set the basket down and flipped the light switch up. The shadows in the corners dissipated and he sat on the floor to fold some pants.

           He pursed his lips, deep in thought (and annoyance) about the weather and how uncomfortable it would be to work out in that world if he was going to. It wouldn’t be as bad if the gardens didn’t get so icy.

           He stood, and the room went pitch black.

           The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, stomach twisted, and electricity shot up his spine. Blood rushed through his ears and the primal fear set in. If he could have seen the room, it would be spinning.

           Frozen but his heart beating out of his chest, Terra softly gasped. He felt absolutely trapped, suffocating in the inky dark. Oh no, not again. He expected to feel the pain of a heart ripping forcing its way into his chest, the blue moon glaring balefully down, and watching himself split into two people in succession, but every memory pounced on him at once.

           He squeezed his eyes shut so that face wouldn’t be staring at him, but he couldn't quash the images flashing under his eyelids or the feeling of what it was like to fade. Oh, god, he couldn’t breathe. One hand on his chest and the other on his throat, trying to force himself to breathe normally, damnit! His balance was off, head light, and he felt like his legs weighed tons.

           “Terra. Breathe.”

           A hand slowly pressed onto his shoulder.

           He blinked, shivering and wrenching his eyes upward to make some sense of where he was.

           “Terra,” Isa murmured as he knelt down, a small flame dancing on his hand, “the power went out.”

           “The—oh…”

           Using water for electricity was fairly cheap and generally stable, but they had to adapt with the wind, magic, sun, and coal after the fall. There were quite a few blackouts and brownouts already. That was the nice thing about The Castle That Never Was--it didn't have outages.

           Isa wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him up onto quaking legs and letting him lean on him. If there's one thing he learned about Terra, it's he reacted well to tactile stimulation when panicking or anxious. It was unusual compared to other people with similar issues to the two of them, but the fact he went a decade with dulled senses and a lack of stimulation made sense of why he found comfort in being touched and being able to feel it fully. Isa was the same way, but he just didn't like being alone in that state.

           “It’s warmest in here, so let’s sit on the bed while you calm down and I'll get the extra blankets.”

           Isa patted his shoulder and led him around.

           “I didn’t think the dark would do that to me.” Terra grunted and sat. "I thought it was the moon."

           He gripped the covers under him and took a few slow but deep breaths. Maybe it was both?

           Isa sat down next to him. “We could always get one of those dusk-to-dawn nightlights that are hardly bright but are noticeable and have a battery for when the power goes out. We, or I, could go get one today while picking up some other things once you calm down more.”

           He dug into his nightstand for a flashlight, adding, “Maybe the power will be back on by the time we get back.”

           “Or maybe tomorrow. Look outside, it's snowing pretty hard and I'm sure a lot of places have no power. But I just…can’t believe I’m afraid of the dark.” Terra groaned, tired and sulky.

           “To be fair, it’s so dark out and the blinds are closed, it was very abrupt." Isa clicked the light to life. "There's usually some light pouring in from outside, even at night.”

           “It’s such a lame thing to be scared of, though, even if there are valid reasons!” Terra sighed, standing back up now that he could get his bearings and it didn't feel like his lungs were going to implode.

           Isa patted him on the shoulder again and stepped past to go to the living room. “Terra, I’m scared of walking down stairs with someone somewhat close behind me. Yours makes sense after everything you went through and because it's so much harder to avoid the dark.”

           “So does yours…” Terra quietly retorted as he slowly followed after him.

           Just because it's been so long and you don't remember what...

[kriss-the-writing-nerd]

11/11/11 tag game

Answer 11 questions, make 11 new questions, tag 11 persons!

I was tagged by @waterfallwritings for this! Thank you, your questions were really interesting and fun to answer! o(^▽^)o

(Sorry if I got a bit lengthy, it was just so nice to do something not university related after exams!)

1. How do you come up with ideas for your WIPs?

The heavy artillery from the get go, eh? *cracks knuckles* Okay, to be honest, I'm not sure. I've never really thought of it, they're just there, clamoring for attention (plot bunnies are my best ally and worst enemy). I definitely have bouts of very intense inspiration and days when I just,, can't. Even if I know where the scene is going, how it's going, and why, the words aren't there. Or they're all wrong. (This is when I default to writing ugly-crying emotional breakdowns or sex. Likely both.)

Working out a story is a game of association laced with concepts and core elements for me. Like this: dragons (core element) + mountains (association) + tribe/clan (concept) + shapeshifting (association/concept) + relocation/settlers (core element). And that's basically my dragon wip.

Eld's story is based on a Doctor Who quote "demons run when a good man goes to war". Ren and Kuro grew up with me; at some point they just started acting on their own - I just throw shit at them and sees what shakes loose at this point. (They have five kids! How???? did that?? happen???)

(I'm a sucker for prompts. My brain can see a single word and just, run of with it hollering in glee.)

2. How do you get past gaps in the plot?

Urrrrgh, I have to get past them??

I struggle, is what I do. Typically I let it sit, soundly on the back-burner in my mind, until I've mulled through my story to the point where the hole is gone. (This takes months, and with my sci-fi wip I ended up rewriting the dang thing completely at the third draft after eight years of working on it. Scrapping it was painful.)

Or I try a different angle. Sometimes it works.

3. What motivates you to keep writing?

I love writing. There's really no more significant reason than that. Writing allows me to express myself, create and explore worlds and characters who wouldn't exist otherwise. And it lets me just exist without any layers. When I've been hurting, writing has helped me get the pain out with no more than tears.

And I love words and languages; the way we have about 10 different words to say "snow" (partly because Swedish mesh several words into one but still) and maybe 2 (3?) for heat. That there are groups of languages with the same ancestors that are so close; how absolutely amazingly different they can be (I just learned "y" is not considered a vowel in English and I'm???? Completely blown. What. What do you mean it's not a vowel. Are you sure???). And languages with different alphabets and ones that use pictures to represent ideas instead of sounds! And sign languages!!

And idioms! It's so cool how idioms can carry words of wisdom, caution and reassurance, and rarely can be translated (classical examples from Swedish "There's no danger on the roof" and "The rain is standing like sticks in the ground") because they lose their connections to the cultures they are used in.

The universes in my head are as full of life as the real world and not nearly as anxiety-inducing. I have stories to tell. And you know that feeling when you’re in the zone and everything is flowing and you’re writing 10′000 words in a go? That.

4. Do you do any other kind of creative writing?

I dabble in poetry? Like, very sporadically and with mixed results. I have a friend into slam poetry who opened my eyes to it, too.

(Would fanfiction go here too?)

5. Do you have any other creative hobbies besides writing?

Urngh, yeah, too many. If I’m not reading, my hands need to be moving or I’m an unhappy bean. Though, writing is the only thing I never put down. Ever.

Okay, so, I draw (badly), both on paper and digitally. Mostly landscapes. I also try to make house sketches/plans. And I paint (a bit better than I draw), prefer oils or acrylics over water colors. My partner and I also paint miniature models when there is time.

I also crochet and knit, and I love origami. I roleplay (Dungeons & Dragons, whenever the DMs have time), and I play the violin (and piano) and write simple music for myself.

I garden if there's time in the spring and during summer, and I absolutely love these little fairy-gardens that have been popping up everywhere. On that note, I have more houseplants than I have space for.

I'm also thinking to start up a little thing making bracelets and bead strings for fidgeting. I needed some kind of stim toy to be able to focus and I wanted something silent with many different sensations to keep me entertained. I hunted around a bit but eventually made my own and they turned out pretty nice!

(I also like to bake, especially pies and breads.)

6. What do you do when you’re stuck on a scene and don’t know how to get it out / write it?

I slam the key words in. And then I ignore it until it stops fighting back so much.

Or I backtrack. Sometimes I've written myself into a corner unknowingly.

Sometimes I drop a wip that's giving me grief and work on another, or I use word/idea prompts to get me started.

7. How do you decide how to end your WIP?

God, please tell me because I don't hecking know. Should I do an epilogue? Should I leave it open/ambiguous? Should I just cut it off and leave the next step to the reader? Should there be a "true" ending, with goodbyes (actual or metaphorical)?

Urrrrrrrrgh. Good Lord, endings.

8. When in the process of writing do you decide how its going to end? Or do you kind of just wait til you get there?

Either I know from the start, before I write the first words, or I wait. Which tends to mean frustrating the hell out of myself. I have started to go through my wips (whether original or fanfiction) and give them all bare-bones outlines, because not having endings is a big problem for me.

9. Why did you decide to join writeblr?

Basically when I decided I had had enough of the "join to see more" button or the "sensitive material" warning. And when I realized there was a really nice writing community here I could maybe become a part of. (A major reason was actually @concerningwolves advice posts.)

10. What’s your favourite food?

(CW: Maybe skip if you’re vegetarian/vegan/you’d rather not read about meat.)

Chinese deep-fried chicken with sweet-and-sour sauce (not the spicy chili kind, the actual pineapple and tomato juice based kind) with rice. No question about it.

Mom's "blodbröd med fläsk" is a close runner up though, but we only eat it once a year, at the midwinter solstice. It's homemade Swedish tunnbröd (hard thin-bread) with blood instead of water in it that you dip in boiling water to make it soft, with white sauce, and fried, thoroughly salted pork.

(Believe me, some country-side Swedes in the northern parts are still pretty pagan about the sun coming back, me included. It's a big deal when you go between no night/darkness and then very little/no sun.)

11. If you had to kill off a character in your WIP, who would it be and why?

People are dying right and left in most of them already, since three include large-scale wars, so there's no shortage there.

But if I had to choose a main-character or a directly supporting character? (MY BABIES! NO.)

I think Ren, from the sci-fi wip, because he would be free from both responsibility and physical and mental pain. (My boi is a wreck.) It wouldn't be unlikely either. But at this point it would destroy my story! 😂 Less story-destroying would be their foster-guardian Sandra. It would still force me to write a completely new arc, but it would be do-able.

Although, regarding the fantasy wip Firestorm, Kebarock dying in their war would crush Sunling. That could be done without losing the plot entirely. Hmmm.

Puh, that was a lot of thinking! Okay, I'll be tagging.. @concerningwolves @weaver-of-fantasies-and-fables @adorhauer @focusdumbass @sleepy-and-anxious @els-writes @meteorwrites @sebastian-writer @telvivere @thescribesloft and @aceymichaelis No obligation to do this of course! <3 (And if I tagged you and you’d rather not be tagged in games, I apologize, please let me know)

And here are your questions if you want to:

1. What about your wip makes you smile?

2. What's the hardest decision you've had to make in regards to a wip?

3. What text font do you prefer writing in? Or do you write by hand?

4. Are there pets in your wip? If not, what pet might your character(s) keep?

5. What AU would you love to see/write for your wip?

6. Is there any type of music/a song in particular that you associate with your wip?

7. Are you a night owl or an early bird/When do you write?

8. Favorite beverage?

9. Where do you prefer to write? At home? In a library? On the bus/train?

10. What are your first 3 to 5 associations with the word 'writing'? Why those?

11. What do you do when you're bored?

Hope you enjoy! o(^◇^)o

[doverstar]

At the time of sending this, it's late and you're dead inside so you can't answer now, but sometime in the future (oooh) here's an ask for you to elaborate on how Barry and Caitlin are each other's superheros :D

I resurrected inside upon waking up this morning to answer your thoughtful ask, buddy!

I’ll elaborate on some Westallen thoughts real quick too, because Westallen shippers became offended after reading what I wrote earlier: I don’t hate Iris West, I think she and Candice are fantastic, I don’t mind if she’s with Barry, I think she deserves happiness and socks that never get wet, and my shipping opinions have nothing to do with the color of anyone’s skin, because that’s real dumb.Okay! On to your fun question, Charlai!Basically, when I first began watching the show I didn’t mind Iris/Barry at all and wanted them to get together just like anyone else (still don’t mind). Then, when I saw the relationship between Barry and Caitlin grow, I thought to myself, dang, this is interesting. I just really enjoyed watching their scenes. Even if not romantically, it’s a great example of platonic friendship. He always has her back, she always has his (this was me watching S1, remember) and they can relate to one another through loss right from the get-go. Barry lost his mom and Caitlin lost sweet Ronnie. The way they interact makes you think, I’d love to have Barry as my friend, or, I’d love to have Caitlin as my friend.

Barry is the Flash. He has super speed and he wants to help everyone and his smile is infectious and he loves saving the day. Imagine having that for a best friend! I saw scenes like the one in The Sound And The Fury, after Hartley hits Caitlin in the Cortex and Barry speeds in and helps her up, and I thought, okay, she’s safe now. Because there’s CareBare, the Flash, her friend, and if she’s ever in trouble she has the fastest man alive on speed dial. How cool is that? I thought that alone was sweet and very enviable. Sweet and enviable and plain cool, and that’s great, but it’s even better when you think of how the roles can be reversed and are reversed several times throughout the show.

Caitlin is Barry’s personal physician. Whether he’s choking on Kyle Nimbus’ poison gas or a bullet just grazed his neck, Barry doesn’t have to worry–even if his recklessness drives Caitlin crazy–because she’s there to ‘patch him up every time he breaks something’. He’s safe when she’s in the room, ready to relocate a shoulder or give him a fussy lecture. He can’t breathe? That’s scary! But there’s Cait and she’ll fix it. She’s his hero, too.

She makes him feel safe–not just physically, but when he’s having some kind of emotional breakdown, Caitlin talks him through it. (Okay, I know basically everybody in the show has emotional breakdowns and everybody talks through it, everybody talks Barry through it, but I’m not wrong here.) She understands how he feels about losing his mother, about not being him (hey-hey, Killer Frost) when he loses his speed, about being afraid, all his insecurities about Iris, she gets it all and she’s there to listen.Again, the roles can be reversed. Barry has his own emotional pow-wows with Caitlin several times throughout the show. She tells him about Ronnie and how afraid she is of her powers and he sits up with her until she falls asleep. He’s Central City’s hero, but he’s also her hero, her own personal superhero. And who does Barry have, to make him feel secure, to save the day? He has Oliver, yeah, obviously, and Joe and Henry and various Wellses his team behind him, but I’m not talking about literal father-figure or I-wanna-be-him hero worship. I mean feeling guarded and protected, and basket-case bioengineer Caitlin Snow pretty much sums that up for him in the show, in all the little ways. She wants him safe so badly she will give him a time-out, mister, if he doesn’t listen to her right now. (She has lots of flaws, even gets annoying if you look at it like that, but I adore a realistic, flawed female character. Girls can be annoying [said the girl] and Caitlin’s great.)And when I looked at it from that angle, it was hard for me not to ship it. I’m the sort of person who sees all that and ships it. Other people aren’t, and it’s all gooding in the pudding. It’s just shipping. It’s fun!

Thank you, my dear friend, for your ask and for caring! If you read all that, you’re the bomb.com.